


Born to Run

by neversaydie



Series: One For My Baby [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BDSM, BUCKY YES, Brainwashing, Broken Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon Disabled Character, Deaf Clint Barton, Dissociation, Drug Addiction, Eating Disorders, Hand Feeding, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Natasha Romanov, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Sobriety, Therapy, Victim Blaming, alexander pierce should have died slower, bucky no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 60,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2220960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Opening a strip club staffed by a traumatised recovering alcoholic, an ex-porn star, and a deaf former-sniper is definitely one of the better ideas Phil Coulson has had.</p><p>[Sequel to Welcome to the Jungle.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back to Black

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to Welcome to the Jungle, aka the Porn AU. You will need to read that for this to make sense. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this as much as the previous instalment!
> 
> Dedicated to Jen, because she's my darling and she encourages me to hurt these characters and make people cry.

"What the fuck is in a Godmother?"

_Amaretto and vodka, 1/1_ , Clint signs back across the bar. It's easier to use his hands than yell when the place is busy, and sometimes when it's really loud he turns his hearing aids off anyway. Bucky holds up an 'ok' symbol and gets to work, dodging under Darcy's arm to grab the amaretto as she reaches up for scotch. His necklace catches on her decorative belt as he leans down, and he quickly jerks it free before the chain can snap. The dog-tags (courtesy of Steve, he used to wear them as Captain America) are fine, he knows they won't get yanked off, but he checks to make sure the AA chip is still in its holder before he goes anywhere. Steve got him a fancy one for his one-year and he doesn't want to lose it.

The club is packed tonight, being that it's a Saturday and that they've got a special live performance from _the_ Natasha Romanov. Natasha doesn't do burlesque, as a rule, but she's agreed to do a live dominatrix demonstration and she's a big enough celebrity in niche circles that the place is full on that promise alone. Her stipulation for helping out the club tonight was that she got to choose her own sub for the demonstration, not be saddled with some random asshole audience member who might not know how to keep his hands to himself.

Clint's been wearing his collar all night, he's pretty excited.

"Hey, don't get jealous." He pokes Bucky in the arm when he catches him eyeing the collar as they restock the bar before opening. Darcy's already been tucking ones in the collar like it's a stripper's thong all day. "Nat's done this for me a few times, it'll look more professional if I know what I'm doing than having some newbie fuck up all over the stage."

Bucky shrugs and gets back to work. He doesn't tell Clint that his previous experience with dog collars is making his hands sweat and his chest tighten. Alexander Pierce flashes behind his eyes every time he catches sight of the thing, but Bucky keeps it together. He calls Steve on his smoke break and talks to his boyfriend until his heart rate comes down to normal. He's not going to relapse tonight, he's come way too far for that.

Pierce doesn't control him anymore, he's not going to let him ruin this.

Bucky's biggest vice, currently, is caffeine. He white-knuckled his way through his first few shifts at the bar with a can of Red Bull or Monster constantly at his side to swig from every time he felt a craving, and he hasn't broken the habit even if it's now easier to pour drinks all night and go home sober. He hasn't been too tempted to break his sobriety since he started working here, even if he can practically taste the booze sometimes.

His hot bouncer boyfriend makes out with him on his breaks. That helps too.

"One Godmother, thirteen bucks." Bucky thanks the guy and pockets the tip as he moves on to the next customer.

He makes good money these days, he's popular at the bar and the tips are decent. He's not as outgoing and funny as Clint, and he certainly doesn't have Darcy's assets, but he's friendly and good-looking and he can be charming as hell when he wants to be. He's good at ID-ing the middle aged women and telling them they look too young to drink, he gets a lot of tips that way. He's also not above flirting like hell with men and women alike to get tips, he takes a lot of pleasure in their expressions when Steve stops by to kiss him over the bar before he heads home after a shift. It feels good to use his looks to his advantage again, rather than have them used against him.

The bar has thrived ever since Phil and Clint closed it down for a month and completely redid the interior, re-opening it right on a holiday weekend. The place has a nineteen-forties theme now, the stages converted to a classic burlesque look and the dancers' new costumes fitting right in. Pin-up girls are stencilled on the walls, in fancy underwear rather than totally nude. Old-school glamour as far as their budget would stretch, and the customers seem to love it. Bucky especially likes the fact that their uniforms are more like costumes, shirts and suspenders and the whole old-fashioned get-up, because it means he can hide his arm brace under his shirtsleeves.

He's still kind of self-conscious about his arm, although it's been getting better since he can afford to get physiotherapy regularly. Permanent damage is still permanent, and he has to wear the brace even though he can manage to do a few things with it off now. He can't work a whole shift without the support, he tried a couple of weeks ago and Clint sent him home before he could break any more than the six glasses he'd already dropped. But as long as he can hide most of the brace under his sleeve then he's not too shy about it.

The bar lights dim suddenly and the lights on the main stage come up as music starts rolling through the speakers. Bucky has to prompt his customer to pay for his drink before he walks away, because suddenly everyone in the bar is fixated on the man who walks out onto the stage.

Huh. So they roped Steve into introducing Natasha.

Bucky can't deny that it's a good choice, although he can tell that Steve is nervous underneath the smile he flashes to the audience. He looks like a matinee idol, his blonde hair parted and combed back neatly in a forties style, his white shirt pressed and just the right side of too-tight. His pants aren't exactly leaving much to the imagination either, they must be borrowed.

Bucky is _totally_ gonna fuck his brains out later.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pride to introduce our headline act this evening." He's got notes written on the back of his hand, and Bucky simultaneously wants to squish his cheeks because this _dork_ , and suck his dick because he looks hot as hell right now.

"The best dominatrix on the East Coast, she's kindly taken time out from her regular job with Shield Entertainment to be here with us tonight. She's asked that you don't take pictures during the performance, so please respect her wishes or you might end up part of the show." Pause for laughter, and Bucky can see Steve relax when the joke lands. "Without further ado, the star of our show: the Black Widow, Ms Natasha Romanov."

The audience erupts in applause and catcalls. Steve takes the mic with him when he walks off the stage, and Natasha comes out with a radio headset mostly hidden by her curled hair. She's every inch the Black Widow tonight, her corset in red and black fits her like a second skin, and her black pants and boots are both soft, dark leather. There's an hourglass insignia on her necklace, and Bucky recognises it from the buckle of Clint's collar.

Thor pushes past him to relieve Clint late, as usual. The Scandinavian isn't a bad bartender, and he's big enough that when he gives someone the wrong drink they generally don't complain, but he's got a problem with punctuality. Clint punches him on the arm as he hops over the bar and pushes through the crowd to the stage, just in time for Natasha to summon him up.

She takes his chin in her hand and kisses him on the forehead, leaving a perfectly-shaped print of red lipstick on his skin. As far as Bucky understands it's not sexual between them when they do this, it's something Phil isn't into but Clint needs, but he's never witnessed them do it before.

Natasha is completely relaxed, hypnotic in her confidence and immediate command of the room. People aren't even ordering drinks right now, everyone is focused on Natasha and Clint.

"When you're dealing with a pet, it's important to reward good behaviour."

Bucky realises how much of a bad idea it was to work tonight just a second too late. He feels the hair on the back of his neck rise at Natasha's smooth voice, at the way she pets Clint's hair when he sinks to his knees at her feet.

It's obvious they've done this before, now that he sees it. Bucky had no idea Clint was submissive like this, but the way he looks up at Natasha like she hung the moon suggests that he very much is, and he drops into subspace fast too. He can see the way his pupils are blown almost from here.

The reason it gets to Bucky is because, God, everything. Dog collars and kneeling and pets and… He didn't realise it would be like this, he should have asked Natasha what she was planning to do before he agreed to work this shift. He still has trouble just having vanilla sex with his boyfriend sometimes, he'd been getting ahead of himself to think he could handle seeing a live D/s show.

Bucky's just sick of having to think about how much he can handle all the time. He used to throw himself into every experience, not caring what happened to him because he'd be numb from booze or whatever pills he'd taken and it wouldn't matter. But since Hydra he has to be _careful_ with himself all the time. There's always the chance that his mind might break on him, that something tiny might set him off and he'll freak out. It's so _embarrassing_ to not be in control of his own mind.

He feels fragile, and he hates it.

"A firm hand is good."

Natasha reaches down and yanks on Clint's hair, hard. He raises his head with a pained sound, keeping his eyes on Natasha the whole time.

Bucky can feel himself start to sweat. This isn't good, he should get out of here. Phil is in the back doing the books, there's nothing to stop him going back there and begging him to take the rest of his shift. Phil would do it, he'd understand why Bucky needed to go home early, but Bucky's frozen in place as Natasha pulls Clint's hair again and he pants out a gasp of pain.

There's nothing behind his eyes except Pierce. He wishes faintly that Steve hadn't left already at the end of his shift. He's not sure he's going to make it home on his own tonight. He feels like his legs won't work.

"Good boy." Natasha coos at Clint, and some of the crowd laugh. Bucky hears the echo of Pierce cooing the same thing in his ear as he cleans him up after one of the Winter Soldier Tapes and –

Bucky's hands are shaking harder now. He needs to leave before he accidentally breaks something, and his mind finally comes back online as his breathing picks up. He puts down the bottle he'd been holding and taps Thor on the shoulder, glad the big guy is always happy to cover for him when he needs a minute. He can get out of here before this turns into a full-blown panic attack.

"I'm waiting for service."

"Sorry, pal. I'm going on my—" Bucky freezes when he turns back to the bar to deal with the customer.

He feels like he got dunked in a bath of ice. His blood freezes.

"Yakov." Alexander Pierce smiles at him, shark-like in the dark beyond the bar. "You've been a very bad boy."


	2. Loss of Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self harm: not explicit but shown.

Steve is sitting up waiting when Bucky gets home.

His blond hair is sticking up like he'd already fallen asleep with his hair full of gel, and he looks up worriedly from the couch when Bucky comes through the door. He's been waiting for a call or text since the bar, getting more and more anxious with every minute that passes without one. He hasn't had to be scared like this for Bucky for a long time, there hasn't been an 'incident' for months, and the feel of nervousness tight in his chest is horribly familiar.

"What the hell happened?" He takes in Bucky's ghost-pale skin and wide eyes and where his bottom lip is bleeding from being chewed so hard and tries to keep his voice level. He knows his boyfriend can get spooked easily when he's in this state. "Darcy called me, she said you ran out of the bar in the middle of your shift. You didn't tell anyone where you were going."

Bucky just grunts a response, dumping his jacket on the back of a chair and going to get a glass of water. He's not ready to talk yet. His hands are shaking like there's an earthquake inside of him, and he has to concentrate and use his good hand to avoid dropping the glass.

They go through a lot of kitchenware since they moved into the same apartment, between Steve's epic clumsiness and Bucky's shitty arm. They've been in their new place for three months and they've already had to replace an entire set of plates since Bucky stated physiotherapy. They have a set of plastic ones in the cabinet that they use when it gets really bad, but Bucky hates them. They feel like an admission of defeat.

"Buck." Steve is standing behind him now, trying to get his attention back as Bucky gulps down water like he's been in the desert for days.

"Don't shut me out, c'mon." He keeps his voice gentle, but the undertone of worry is impossible to hide. "Are you with me right now?"

"M'fine. I'm gonna take a shower." Bucky puts the glass down and rubs his good hand over his face before he quickly heads towards the bathroom. He's still in fight or flight, and he doesn't want to lash out at Steve again because he feels trapped.

Steve must be worried, because he reaches out and grabs Bucky's elbow to stop him running away. He hardly ever breaks any of Bucky's boundaries, is always careful not to grab his boyfriend when he can't see him do it or stop him when he wants to get away, but his anxiety overcomes his respect for Bucky's space this time. It's a big enough change of behaviour that it shocks Bucky out of his funk, just a little.

"Did something happen? Are you sober?" Steve sounds like he's trying to be firm, but he's too scared of the answer to keep the tremor out of his voice. "I'm not gonna yell if you're not, I just need you to tell me."

"I'm sober." He's got his sluggish brain back online enough to realise he's scaring Steve by keeping quiet. He would be offended by Steve immediately assuming that he's intoxicated, but he knows he's being weird right now. "I… It was Natasha's show. I didn't know what it'd be like. There was… hair pulling and stuff. It freaked me out."

"Oh, Buck. I should've thought, I didn't realise." And Bucky hates that Steve looks so fucking _guilty_ , like he should be responsible for Bucky keeping _himself_ safe. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I just had to get outta there. Didn't think, just went." He nods, not meeting Steve's eyes. He's let everyone down _again_ because he couldn't keep his fucking broken brain together for one night. "I think I left my phone at the bar. Can you text Phil and tell him I'm sorry? I didn't mean to run off."

"Sure, babe. He'll understand." Steve steps closer and his hands twitch up like he wants to pull Bucky into a hug, but he thinks better of it and stops himself. Bucky can't deal with that much contact sometimes, especially after a flashback, and Steve's already crossed lines tonight. "I'll make you something to eat for when you get out the shower."

"Thanks." Bucky mumbles hoarsely, and he leans up and kisses Steve on the cheek after a second of hesitation. "Sorry. I just…"

"It's okay, it happens. Go clean up, you'll feel better." Steve squeezes his arm gently before he lets go, shuffling into the kitchen in his pyjamas and running a hand tiredly through his hair like he's just figured out it's sticking up. Bucky sighs and goes into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

As soon as he's alone, he sinks to the floor and pulls his knees up to his chest. It helps to get small like this when he feels rattled and exposed, like everyone can look at him and see the fractures in his mind that he's been trying so hard to paper over. He's been doing everything right, he's been trying so hard to be normal. He can't believe this is happening again.

The thing is, he shouldn't have run out of the bar. He should have waited and at least told Thor who Pierce was, because the guy would have been thrown out and never allowed back in if Bucky had just thought, just paused for a second. But he couldn't do that because… because he couldn't stand it if his mind was playing tricks on him again. If it was confirmed that Pierce wasn't really there.

If anyone found out that he's been seeing things.

Bucky thinks he's kept a lid on it, this private hell that's been getting worse lately. His brain was messed up by the chemicals Hydra used on him, they know that: his memory is still patchy and fucked up in places and sometimes he forgets things that everyone around him knows about easily. Steve is aware of his memory problems, bought Bucky a camera as a birthday gift so he can take pictures of the things they do and places they go, so he has something to prompt him when he forgets things. But Bucky can't tell Steve about this, he can't tell him he might be going totally crazy.

It's not that he sees things, not exactly. It's just that sometimes when he comes out of a nightmare or a flashback he'll see someone horribly familiar out of the corner of his eye. It's like they're haunting him, Pierce and Rumlow and even Sitwell, sometimes. He'll think he sees them standing behind him in the mirror, will duck when he thinks someone swings for him when he catches sight of his reflection in the coffee pot in the dark. It's either the brain damage or he's crazy, and he's not sure which is worse.

He must have imagined Pierce because he was freaked out by Natasha's show, he _must_ have. Even if he seemed solid and Bucky's never hallucinated someone talking to him before. But he can't have been real. He couldn't have been there. Bucky couldn't handle it if Pierce had really –

Bucky lets out a swallowed sound of frustration and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes so hard that he sees stars. He has to get up off the floor, has to get in the shower because Steve is expecting to hear the water start and Bucky can't make him worry more tonight. He feels like he's letting everyone down all over again, he can't start slipping now.

Shakily, Bucky manages to force himself to his feet. He starts the water and turns it as hot as it'll go, peeling off his work clothes as he waits for the spray to heat up. He pauses when he comes to unfasten his arm brace, the germ of an idea sparking in his mind.

He knows how he can get back into his head, ground himself and keep his mind in the present. And he won't need drugs to do it. It'll just be one more secret he needs to keep from Steve. But hell, Bucky's been good at lying since he was five years old. This is nothing new.

The brace comes off and he cringes at the wasted muscle beneath it. His arm is starting to build up again, now that he can afford physio, but he's still got a way to go before it looks normal. Steve thinks he keeps the brace on when they have sex because he wants to be able to use his arm normally, but the truth is that Bucky's afraid that his boyfriend will be disgusted by his stupid, wasted, useless arm.

The red star tattoo on his shoulder is faded and uneven, not surprising since it was done by an amateur guy in some apartment with a borrowed tattoo gun. Bucky remembers Pierce crouching down in front of him while the guy dug heavy-handed needles into his flesh, watching every flicker of pain that crossed Bucky's face with a smile that almost looked proud.

Maybe that part was wishful thinking.

Before he realises he's done it, Steve's straight razor is in his hand. The pleasant memory of making fun of his boyfriend for being too old-fashioned to use a safety razor is blotted out by the itch under Bucky's skin. He feels like his brain and body have been disconnected since he saw Pierce in the bar, and he's pretty sure he knows how to bring the two back together with a bump. They might have had the right idea in the middle ages, about bloodletting to get rid of demons.

The cuts he scores through the red star on his skinny shoulder aren't deep, but the sharp bite of pain makes him gasp. It's exactly what he needed, and Bucky finds himself twitching a weary smile of relief as thin rivulets of blood trickle down his arm. His chest doesn't feel tight now, he can breathe again and the fog that's been engulfing his mind seems to have cleared.

The shower washes away the evidence of his loss of control, and Bucky sighs contentedly as he washes the gel out of his hair. He can handle tonight now, can leave the bathroom and smile at his boyfriend when he does. He can kiss Steve, he can stand to be touched, they can have sex like normal fucking people and Bucky's head won't get in the way.

He can keep it together, he can be fine.

Bucky raids the first aid kit, hunts out antiseptic cream and gauze and dresses his wounds carefully so they'll heal properly and fast. He eases his arm brace back on and fastens it into place carefully over the bandage. Steve will never see it.

He looks at himself in the mirror and blows out a long breath to centre himself. With a towel around his hips and a half-smile on his face, the traces of panic and fear from this evening have almost disappeared. He can be good for Steve like this, avoid letting his long-suffering boyfriend down all over again.

Pierce was just a ghost, an echo of Bucky's broken brain. He's back in control now.

He's fine.


	3. Lots Sometimes

"You slept in your brace again."

Bucky just mumbles sleepily and makes a shushing noise, reaching up to put his hand over Steve's mouth. Steve takes the hint and shuts up, stifling a laugh when Bucky turns his face into his side and lets his hand fall away as he goes back to sleep. Apparently it's too early for talking.

Steve loves Bucky like this, sleepy and reluctant to move from the warm, comfortable spot he's found. He's like a cat, a heat-seeking missile in the dark as long as he's having a peaceful night's sleep. It's still rare enough that their sleep isn't broken by Bucky's nightmares that it feels like a gift when Steve gets to wake up like this, curled up with the man he loves clinging to him with octopus limbs.

He gives it ten more minutes before his second alarm beeps and he sighs, sitting up a little despite Bucky's grunt of protest. Steve checks his phone and sighs, he has to be at the bar in forty-five minutes.

"I gotta get up." It's not early really, the sun is streaming through the cracks in their curtains and the street noise has picked up outside, but Bucky still grumbles when Steve tries to move away from him. It's early by morning-after-the-late-shift standards, that much is true.

"No." He tugs Steve closer and buries his face in his chest.

"I gotta go to work, sweetheart." Steve can't be annoyed, not when Bucky's warm and pliant and cuddling up to him like he's the only thing in the world that matters.

"No. Fuck work." Bucky grumbles and nuzzles into Steve's chest again, pressing a sloppy kiss to his bare skin. Steve has to admit he's making a pretty good case for staying in bed.

"I'll make coffee." It's the final level of bribery that makes Bucky sigh and shove Steve away.

"Get outta my bed." Bucky hides his face in his pillow, dark hair sticking up all over the place, and waves lazily at Steve. "Don't come back without caffeine, Rogers."

"You gonna drink it this time? Or you gonna go back to sleep and let it go cold on the nightstand again?"

"I'm _wide_ awake." Bucky murmurs, and Steve can already hear that he's drifting off again in the croak of his voice. He grins and leans over to press a kiss to Bucky's unruly hair, easing himself out of bed without shifting the mattress too much.

He sets coffee on the nightstand when he comes back into the bedroom to say goodbye. Bucky is totally out, but he comes around enough to return the kiss that Steve presses to his slack lips. It took a long time before Bucky could handle being kissed in his sleep, and it's still something Steve only tries when he's had a peaceful night. This morning is shaping up to be even better than he expected, he doesn't care if Bucky inevitably lets his coffee go cold.

There's a definite spring in Steve's step as he walks to work. He clicks on the _Stupid Happy Shit_ playlist Bucky had to make for therapy homework and hums along all the way to the bar. He'll be whistling while he helps with the stock-take this morning, he knows it. Darcy always makes fun of him for being so old-fashioned it hurts, but she won't be there after last night. Steve can be as corny as he wants today.

That's the first thing that clues him into the fact that his morning isn't going to be as awesome as he'd hoped: Darcy is there when he gets into the office.

"Hey." He smiles despite being slightly baffled. "I thought you worked late last night."

"I did." Darcy looks uneasy, which is his second sign that something is seriously wrong. Her laid-back demeanour is totally different from Natasha's icy control, but they're similar in that nothing ruffles them.

Darcy looks pretty ruffled right now.

"How's Bucky?" Clint looks up from the desk. He's leaning over Phil's shoulder as his husband does something on the computer monitor. Steve wonders if this is what Bucky feels like all the time, because every eye in the room is suddenly weighing on him as they wait for his answer.

"He's fine. He was kinda shaken up by the show last night but he got over it pretty quick." He narrows his eyes as nobody stops looking at him with that heavy gaze. "What?"

"There's something you should see." Phil nods towards the monitor and Steve walks behind him curiously so he can see it.

There's security footage from the club on the screen, black and white but not too grainy to see who's working behind the bar. Clint, Darcy, and Bucky are in their usual spots, Thor just coming into frame to their left.

"What am I looking at?" Steve asks, glancing between his friends' faces for some kind of clue. Darcy chews on her lip and Clint and Phil are focused on the screen.

"Watch." Phil presses play, and Thor hurries into shot. "This is just as Natasha's show started."

Clint punches his replacement on the arm and hops the bar. The camera is angled so the backs of the customers' heads can be seen, and Steve recognises the moment when Bucky starts to freeze up, even turned away from the camera to look at the stage.

"I don't understand why—"

"Just watch. He tells Thor he's leaving here…" Clint points out the gesture. "And then, here…"

Steve watches as a customer gets Bucky's attention, his boyfriend finally turned back to face the camera. He sees the way Bucky goes rigidly still, staring at the guy in front of him like he's seen a ghost. The guy reaches out and strokes the back of his hand over Bucky's cheek, and that's what makes him bolt. Bucky runs out of shot, almost knocking Darcy over in the process.

"What the _fuck_?" Steve can hear his heartbeat start to pound in his ears with anger. Who the fuck does this guy think he is, touching _his_ Bucky like he's a piece of meat?

"My thoughts exactly." Clint growls, defensively. Phil holds up a hand and starts scrolling through the various security camera feeds.

"We've got the angle from the camera over the bar." He clicks onto the feed and pulls the time back to right when Natasha's show started. "We can get a visual on this guy."

This time Steve can see Bucky's face as he gets freaked out by the show, and his chest aches. He'd been thinking of going to say goodbye to his boyfriend after he'd introduced the show, why hadn't he just done that? Why had he decided he was too tired to go through the bar again and just went home? He could have prevented all of this.

The guy comes to stand behind Bucky way before he turns around. It's kind of creepy how he stands there, the guy older and mostly grey-haired, fixated and staring at Bucky's back. It's clear that he's waiting for Bucky specifically, and Steve is furious even before Phil makes a small noise of surprise.

"Shit." He pauses the tape and looks up when he realises the rest of them are staring at him expectantly. "I know who it is."

"Who?" Steve demands immediately. He needs to know whose ass he's going to be kicking as soon as he finds them.

"I only met him once but… that's Alexander Pierce."

It's as if all the air gets sucked out of the room as a deathly silence falls.

"Are you serious?" Clint breathes, sounding like he can't believe it.

Steve can't even speak.

"I'm serious. It's him." Phil clicks over to google, and a quick image search confirms what he'd feared. "He must have found out about Bucky working here. Do you think –"

"Yeah. Bucky recognised him." Steve's voice is icy, and he swears Darcy backs up a step before she speaks.

"That's why I came in this morning, to tell Phil about the guy. He freaked me out." She explains, quietly. "After Bucky left the old guy started asking me all these questions about him. Weird stuff, really personal. I thought he was just some kinda random creep, we get them sometimes, but he definitely knew Bucky."

"What did you tell him?" Clint looks like he's making plans already, probably figuring out how they can deal with the situation. But Steve can't focus through the growing anger in his stomach.

He can't tell who he's mad at. Pierce for being there, Bucky for not telling him about it, or himself for not being there to protect his boyfriend. Maybe it's all three.

"Nothing. I mean, I told him Bucky had a boyfriend." Darcy looks uneasy, guilty like she could have known who the hell she'd been talking to. "I thought he was just a creep, sometimes they back off when they think you belong to someone else."

"That might not put him off." Clint and Phil are exchanging a look, forming a plan, but Steve can't stay standing here anymore.

"I'm sorry. I gotta go home." He doesn't wait for approval, just storms out of the office.

There's so much rage behind his eyes that Steve doesn't even pause until he reaches the stairwell of their building. He barely even noticed the journey back to the apartment, all his positive feelings from earlier that morning burned away in favour of the anger in his chest. He has to pause and press his knuckles hard into the wall a few times, just short of a punch, to try and get his temper under control.

He can't take this out on Bucky. He can't.

"Alexander Pierce?"

Bucky bolts upright like he's received an electric shock, and Steve doesn't lower his voice despite the guilt for causing that reaction. It looks like he's been dozing on the couch in front of the TV, and he's both disoriented and freaked out by the sudden yelling. He blinks up at Steve like a deer caught in headlights, and he looks just as likely to be flattened right now.

Apparently Steve isn't good at sticking to his intention _not_ to yell at his boyfriend over this.

" _Alexander Pierce_ , Buck?!"

"I… I…" He can't even speak without stuttering. If the guy's _name_ has this much effect on him, Steve doesn't understand how Bucky could possibly think it was a good idea to try and hide the fact that the guy is _stalking_ him.

"Why didn't you tell me he was there last night? You didn't think that was something I might need to know?" He demands, hands on his hips and unconsciously making himself look twice as big as usual.

"I… I-I wasn't sure he was real." Steve just stares at him, and Bucky starts to babble as his heart starts hammering through his chest. He fucked up, he's going to get punished. "I-I was all freaked out by the show an-and then he was just fucking _there_ like a ghost and I… I wasn't sure he was real. I thought I was seeing things."

"Has it happened before? You seeing things?" Steve looks like he's not sure whether to be furious or terrified. His temper is starting to cool in the face of this new information, and he just feels bewildered.

Bucky's silence is all the response he needs.

"You've been seeing things?! How long has that been going on for?" Steve is so torn between anger and fear that he doesn't notice Bucky's eyes start to cloud over. "Have you been to the doctor? How could you not tell me about this?!"

"I-I-"

"How am I supposed to keep you safe if you don't help me, Bucky? Do you _want_ to get better?"

There's a long moment of silence where Steve watches Bucky's mouth work soundlessly. Then he snaps out of his anger and realises that Bucky's eyes are completely unfocused.

"Bucky? Babe?" He moves closer cautiously and crouches down in front of his boyfriend. "Can you hear me?"

There's no response. Steve curses viciously in his head, he hasn't seen Bucky check out like this for a long time. Not this badly. He hasn't dissociated like this since he got sober.

Maybe not even before that. This might be the worst Steve's ever seen him.

He tries squeezing Bucky's hands, even shaking his shoulders to try and snap him out of it. The bottle of strong-smelling oil that Dr Erskine had suggested might bring Bucky back to himself doesn't work either, and Steve is starting to freak out. He's a second away from calling the doctor in the face of Bucky's blank stare before he remembers one more thing he can try and rushes to the freezer.

Ice squeezed in his hands does the trick. Bucky gasps at the sensation like he's surfacing from being deep underwater, and his eyes finally slide back into focus.

"Jesus, Bucky. Fuck." Steve can't help pulling him into a hug where he's kneeling in front of him. "You scared the shit outta me."

"Please don't hurt me." Bucky's voice is tiny, far away, and Steve feels his head fucking break because _he_ caused that sound and the tension in his boyfriend's frozen muscles. "I'll be good."

"I'm not gonna hurt you. You are good, Buck. You're safe." Steve tries not to cry as he pulls back enough to look Bucky in the eye. "Do you know where you are? You know who I am?"

Bucky blinks a few times before recognition blooms behind his eyes.

"St-Steve?" He slumps forward and buries his face in Steve's neck, and Steve lets a tear fall in relief because he was _terrified_ that this would be the time Bucky couldn't come back. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it's okay. I shouldn't have yelled at you." He runs his hand gently over Bucky's unruly hair and presses a rough kiss just above his ear. "I'm sorry, Buck."

Bucky just makes a quiet sound and slowly brings up his arms around Steve's back. Steve squeezes his eyes tight shut and presses his face into Bucky's hair, feeling lower than dirt. They can't fix this if they keep tripping each other up, and Steve has to keep his calm when Bucky can't keep his.

It's not a weight that he saw himself shouldering, but he can do it if Bucky needs him to. He just wishes Alexander Pierce weren't about to dump a whole lot more weight on their shoulders.

Steve's not sure the fractures between them can handle another blow.


	4. Every Breath You Take

Therapy isn't Bucky's favourite way to spend an afternoon.

"Is self-injury still a problem?" Dr Erskine fixes Bucky with a pointed stare over the wire rim of his glasses. Bucky always feels like the old guy can see right through him when he looks at him like that, and it's been happening a lot today.

"It's not a _problem_. It's the only thing that works." He mutters, defensively. He still hates therapy, even though he's used to it now he's been going for a few months.

Things got better when he first started, amazingly so. Bucky made huge amounts of progress with Dr Erskine, and he's beginning to think that maybe it's given him an over-ambitious idea of how quickly he can heal. During his first month in therapy, Bucky managed to get over some of his touch problems, his nightmares got less intense, and he and Steve finally managed to have sex.

Then Alexander fucking Pierce came back into his life and it feels like all that progress has stalled.

"So you're still doing it? And you've moved on to cutting yourself rather than the punching we talked about before?" Bucky nods and doesn't meet the doctor's eyes. "Escalation isn't exactly desirable, in this situation. And substituting physical injury with the grounding techniques we worked on…"

"It doesn't work, Doc. I get wound up and wound up, and nothing brings me down except getting hurt." He folds his arms and hugs himself surreptitiously in frustration. He's aware that this is a _defensive posture_ or whatever the fuck Dr Erskine calls it, but Bucky feels like he could use a little defence right now.

"I've tried squeezing the fucking stress ball and smelling the stupid mint oil and all that shit. None of it does a damn thing to snap me out of it when my stupid fuckin' brain goes offline. The only thing that helped was ice, and that's because – fuckin' guess what – it kinda _hurts_."

"You're getting frustrated." Bucky hates when Dr Erskine does this, when he makes observations without giving any indication of what the fuck he wants Bucky to say. He's still not good at answering questions or giving opinions without an idea of what he can say without getting in trouble. He's no good at being given free rein to reply however he wants.

"'Course I am." He mumbles eventually. "I wanna be normal, I don't wanna backslide all over again."

"Do you think your fear of getting worse might be _making_ you backslide?"

Bucky doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything.

"How is Steven handling your current condition?" Erskine always knows just where to prod to make Bucky flinch. He's not sure if it's a good or bad thing. "Does he know about your self-injury?"

"No." Bucky shakes his head guiltily. "He… He doesn't know all of it. I don't tell him the really bad stuff."

"And why don't you tell him? Are you afraid he'll be upset?"

"I know he'll be upset. He's got this _thing_ where he thinks he can save me if he just tries hard enough. Like he can just love me better, and he's failing if I'm not fine." Bucky starts chewing on his lip, unashamed of the fact he needs the little bite of dull pain to stay focused. At least it's easier to talk about Steve than himself. "He feels responsible for me getting better, he looks so fucking guilty when I'm not doing so good. I can't do that to him."

"I don't think you need me to tell you that it doesn't sound like the healthiest environment to recover in." Another one of his pointed looks, and Bucky tries not to shrink under the doctor's gaze. "Being dishonest about your condition is only putting more pressure on you to live up to an impossible standard."

"But I can't just… He thinks I'm doing good, it destroys him when I'm not."

"Maybe it wouldn't destroy him so much if you weren't setting him up for a fall." Erskine suggests, making a note on his pad. "You lead him to believe that things are perfect, then you have a single incident and he sees it as a huge crash because he has no idea that it isn't that big of a fall from where you really are. You're creating a cycle here, and it can easily turn into a spiral."

"So what do I do?" Bucky asks, feeling helpless. He's causing some of his own problems right now, he knows that, but he doesn't know how to fix it.

"Your first step would be being honest with your partner." The doctor's soft, accented voice is usually a comfort to Bucky, but today it feels too sharp not to hurt. "You and I can work on more techniques to deal with your dissociative episodes, but there's only so much we can do in this office. Any significant change outside of it starts with you."

"What if nothing changes?" Bucky's voice is quiet, and he feels like a child sitting there curled into himself. "What if I never get better?"

"James, you have already made a huge amount of progress since we started meeting." Dr Erskine speaks gently, but Bucky can't bring himself to look at his expression. He might read a lie there where there isn't one, or at worst he might be right about the doctor pretending he's made progress.

"What does 'better' mean to you? What would your life be like if you were 'better'?"

There isn't really silence in the room as Bucky thinks, but it's quiet. The clock ticks and the cars outside keep swishing past, but Dr Erskine's office is on the second floor of a building next to a small park and it's not so noisy here. Bucky appreciates the quiet, for once, as he struggles to get his thoughts together. He hadn't realised what a vague concept of 'getting better' he has.

Dr Erskine notices him twisting his fingers together anxiously and presses a stress ball from the box beside his desk into Bucky's hands. It helps to have something grounding him when he thinks about difficult subjects, and the stress ball ends up pretty much flattened as Bucky white-knuckles his way to an answer.

"I… I just want it to be like it didn't happen." Bucky mumbles, eventually. "I wanna make it like Hydra and the Tapes and… and Sasha… like that never happened to me. When I'm better, I want it to be like it never happened."

The doctor doesn't reply straight away, and Bucky's heart sinks right to the floor. He wishes he was holding one of the stupid stuffed toys Erskine keeps in the box of therapeutic items, but he's too embarrassed to reach for one. He just wants a shield, he feels too exposed right now.

"I'm not sure that's a realistic goal, James." He's gentle as he takes Bucky's hope apart, but he still does it. "I think you might have to adjust your idea of what 'better' is. That's not a bad thing, it just means you're not holding yourself up to those impossible standards we talked about."

Bucky nods, keeping his eyes focused on his hands. He does the only thing he can to protect himself and twitches a humourless rictus of a smile. Looks like he's going to have to start building his masks back up again.

"Sure, Doc." He doesn't see the concern on Erskine's face, because he's not looking. "Sure."

Bucky's in such a state when he leaves the office, ten minutes late because he had to go and check out again and Erskine had to bring him back to the present, that he doesn't notice anything around him. He doesn't notice the tall, skinny man folded into a chair in the waiting room, busy with his phone and not paying any attention to Bucky.

He especially doesn't notice when the guy silently snaps a picture of him as he turns to say goodbye to Dr Erskine. He's already left the office by the time the guy sends the picture to a contact, message attached. Both Bucky's weekly appointments have been marked now, they know exactly where he'll be. Schmitt has done his job.

Alexander Pierce is alone when he receives the message, but he smiles.


	5. Little Hits

"So… You have a sex dungeon in your house now?"

"It's not a sex dungeon. It's one fuckin' room… Shut up, man." Sam shoves Steve's shoulder and the look on his face almost makes him snort beer through his nose. "It makes sense to do the cam show in the house, you've gotta have the right backdrop."

Sam and Natasha are, weirdly, a little slice of normality in Steve's life. He's missed hanging out with them, been so busy since the bar opened that this is the first time he's had a chance to come over and hang out in weeks. Natasha is busy finishing off the last half-hour of her regular cam show, making over a hundred bucks a minute to tell guys their tiny dicks couldn't satisfy her.

Steve's pretty sure everyone in the world is a little bit in love with Natasha, he knows he is.

"Nat get you into all the whips and chains, then?" Steve smirks and Sam just rolls his eyes with a laugh.

"Nah. Fuzzy handcuffs is about as hardcore as I get." He takes a swig of his beer and flops down on the couch. Steve sinks down next to him and lets his head rest back on the cushions. "She has Clint for all that other stuff."

"Yeah, I was gonna ask about that." Steve looks over curiously. "Because there's you and Nat, and Clint and Phil… and then there's Nat and Clint."

"There's always been Nat and Clint." Sam shrugs. "They don't fuck or anything, it's not like that. It's just something they both need that me and Phil aren't into. Clint needs to follow orders, Natasha needs to give them. It makes them happy."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Hey, they were doing it long before I came on the scene. Nat does what she wants, I just try and keep up. It's fine by me." Sam takes a final drink of his beer and stands up, holding out his hand for Steve's empty bottle before he goes to grab them a couple more beers.

Steve's a little tipsy, his tolerance has gone way down since he stopped drinking most of the time on Bucky's behalf. He should probably stop after another beer, it would be a shitty move to go home drunk. Even if he kind of wishes he could.

"What about Phil?"

Sam grimaces when he comes back and hands Steve another beer. The shower starts running upstairs; Steve figures Natasha must be done working. She usually washes off the job and then comes back to the real world, so he figures he'd better not talk about this much longer.

"That's… complicated." Sam fiddles with the label on his bottle awkwardly. "They're one of those couples, y'know? They fight and then everything's fine, and then they fight again. Sometimes they fight about Clint and Nat, sometimes they don't. All I know is, Clint and Nat are happier when they're able to do a session together, I'm not gonna get in the way of that."

"Huh." Steve takes a drink and considers it.

He can't exactly see why Clint would want to follow orders after getting out of the military on what, as far as Steve can gather without asking about it directly, weren't awesome terms. But he's not exactly gong to judge someone for getting what they need out of life.

"How about you and tall-dark-and-cyborg?" Steve rolls his eyes as Sam smirks at him. He's about to reply when Natasha saunters into the room, wrapped in a deep red silk robe with her damp hair tied up in a bun.

"Fellas." She greets them with a smile, leaning down to kiss Steve on the cheek and Sam on the lips before she steals his beer.

"Good show?" Sam practically has hearts in his eyes as he grins at her, and Steve smothers a laugh at how totally smitten his friend still is.

"Well, nobody asked me to do anything weird with my feet this time." She takes a swig and hands Sam his beer back, pausing for a second before she goes to the kitchen. "Is James coming over?"

"He's working tonight, you can drink." Steve shakes his head.

Natasha returns from the kitchen a minute later with a glass of red wine, curling into the armchair adjacent to the couch. Sam looks disappointed that she's not curling up on his lap, and Steve pushes down the urge to laugh at what's practically a pout on his friend's face.

"How is James?" Natasha asks, tugging off the hairband and letting her hair fall loose around her shoulders. "He's been a little quiet whenever I call."

"He's… I dunno. He says he's doing okay." Steve sighs and rubs a hand through his hair as he considers his words. "He doesn't really tell me if he isn't. I think he tries to hide it so it doesn't upset me."

"That's not good." Sam frowns. Steve nods glumly, picking at the label on his beer bottle.

"I know. But if he doesn't tell me then he doesn't tell me, y'know? I just wish I could make him understand that I'm proud of him even if he isn't doing so well."

"Maybe you should do something for him, if he's not big on talking." Sam suggests. "Show him you're proud of how hard he's trying."

"Like a… gift? Or…" Steve chews on his lip as he tries to push his sluggish thoughts into action. Okay, maybe he's a little drunker than he thought.

"Think about how many things James owns that aren't his arm brace or his work clothes." Natasha is quiet, but her words still hit Steve like a punch to the chest. "It might be good for him to own something that isn't functional."

Steve sighs quietly. He'd noticed Bucky's tendency to not accumulate possessions, to not leave traces of himself around the apartment and appropriate Steve's stuff rather than his own. Steve's pretty sure the only clothes Bucky owns that actually fit him are a pair of jeans and his boots, the rest he steals from his boyfriend. He'd just thought it was cute, it had never occurred to him that maybe Bucky had never been _allowed_ to have his own things before.

Not for the first time, Steve wonders just how much Natasha knows about Bucky that he doesn't.

"Something just for him." Steve thinks for a long moment, and then a grin spreads over his face. "I got an idea."

*

"You're coming out of your skin today."

While Clint is usually helpful, sometimes his comments aren't really appreciated.

"Bad night. Therapy this morning. It sucked." Bucky grunts, admitting defeat and putting down the bottles he's been restocking before he drops them. His shaky hands aren't exactly conducive to working with glass every day.

"So what is it? You feel insecure or like your head isn't together?" Clint usually tries to get as much information as he can when Bucky isn't doing so well, to see if he's fit to work or they should just send him home for the day. He knows it sucks to have people treat you like you're fragile, but sometimes it's the best he can do.

"It's… It's hard to describe. Because I'd have to pick a word." Bucky mumbles. Clint nods understandingly, because he knows that after following orders and having everything decided for you, choice can be terrifying. He's never heard Steve or Bucky talk about that aspect of what he'd been through, and Clint's starting to wonder if they've ever addressed it.

"I know how that feels." He watches Bucky try and collect himself for a minute before he speaks again, choosing his words carefully. "Look, this might be something you don't wanna do, but there's a reason me and Natasha do a session together sometimes."

Bucky just looks at him curiously, and the defeat behind his eyes is what convinces Clint that this is something he has to try. It might not work, but Bucky seems to be getting increasingly desperate lately and Clint's worried where that road might end. He seems like he needs an anchor, and Clint can think of a way to try and give him that for a little while.

"Lemme try something. I'm gonna stop if you want me to, okay? This is just something that works for me, it's okay if it doesn't work for you."

Clint waits for a nod of consent before he grabs the suspenders from his uniform sitting on the counter (that he refuses to change into until he has to, because vintage was a good idea until he realised _he'd_ be one of the people wearing it). He's not exactly used to being on the giving end of this scenario, but this is nothing heavy and he can handle it. Bucky trusts him, that's the important thing.

He takes a firm hold of Bucky's wrist and pulls him over to the sink at the back of the bar. Slowly, so Bucky has time to tell him to stop anything he's doing, he ties one end of the suspenders around a pipe under the sink. He ties the other end around Bucky's wrist, running his finger underneath the elastic to make sure it isn't too tight.

"I'm taking the choice away, alright? You have a break from being in charge of yourself." He watches closely as Bucky tugs experimentally on the bond. There's more than enough slack to move, and the elastic can stretch a little further on top of that. "You're gonna stand here and clean glasses until I come and tell you to stop. I'm making the decisions, you don't have to think about anything. We're gonna use traffic lights, okay? If you wanna stop, you just say red."

Clint sees the way Bucky lets out a shuddery breath and his shoulders finally relax, and he hopes it's a good sign. He checks his friend over for all the usual warning signs, but his breathing is steady, his eyes are clear, and there's no tremor in his hands. Still, he needs to get a verbal confirmation that Bucky's doing okay, it wouldn't be unheard of for him to look fine while he's checking out mentally.

"Okay, big guy?" He keeps his voice steady, reassuring. "Gonna need to hear it from ya."

"Okay." Bucky's voice is hoarse, but he clears his throat and he looks calmer when he twitches a half-smile at Clint. "I… Yeah. Good."

"We're gonna do this for maybe twenty minutes, alright? Just to give you breathing space." He hesitates and then lays his hand on the back of Bucky's neck and gives it a gentle squeeze. "What's your colour?"

"Green." Bucky picks up the first dirty glass and starts cleaning it, his posture more relaxed than Clint's seen it for months.

He has orders, he has exact parameters that tell him how he's supposed to be good. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders, because making his own decisions still feels like flying blind. Being given instructions and limits feels like safety.

Clint doesn't leave Bucky alone, restocks the bar a few feet away for the entire time. He's within physical reach, let alone hearing distance, but Bucky doesn't look up from his task once. He grabs a Red Bull from the fridge and hands it to Bucky as he unties him.

"You did good." Clint praises him, and the sunny smile that lights up Bucky's face is what convinces Clint that this might be something that might work for his friend, too. "You feel better now?"

"Yeah." Bucky's voice is as steady as his hands, which don't tremble for a second as he opens the can of energy drink and takes a sip. "I guess I needed to get outta my head for a while. Thank you."

"You look better." Clint nods, smiling and relieved that he hasn't managed to accidentally mess up Bucky more than he already has been. "You should talk to Nat. Having someone else call the shots for a while helps, she might be able to help you out the same as she does for me."

Bucky nods hesitantly, feeling somehow embarrassed that he'd just let Clint take him over and that it had felt good. After everything he's been through, he's pretty sure that he shouldn't feel safer when he's doing as he's told. He should never want to follow orders again, there must be something wrong with him. He shouldn't feel like this.

"I… Yeah. Maybe." He swallows hard and pulls a fixed smile. "Not without talking to Steve first, though."

"'Course, man." Clint claps him on the shoulder encouragingly. "Alright, you ready to get set up for opening now?"

"Sure." Bucky nods, grabbing his uniform and disappearing quickly into the back. On the surface he feels calmer, but underneath he's more confused than ever. He doesn't know how he's going to figure all this out inside his own head, it feels too big for him to handle alone.

Maybe Dr Erskine was right, maybe he does have to start being honest with Steve.


	6. Love Will Tear Us Apart

"Are you drunk?"

Bucky thinks this might be the first time he's ever asked Steve that question instead of the other way around.

"No." Steve looks guilty when he blurts out an answer, and he's such a bad liar that he immediately stops trying. "Okay, maybe. I had a few beers with Sam."

He looks like a kicked puppy, standing there with his bottom lip poking out and one eye squinted in an attempt to keep seeing only one of his boyfriend. Bucky reaches out and takes hold of his arms gingerly, guiding him to the couch. Steve sits down heavily and Bucky settles beside him cautiously.

Seeing other people drunk doesn't make him want to drink, it's the smell of booze that does it. He's kind of scared to kiss Steve right now in case he can taste it.

"I'm sorry, I'm such a dick. I really didn't mean to get drunk." Steve mumbles, picking at a loose thread on his jeans like a chastised child.

"It's okay." Bucky reaches over and grabs his hand, stopping the anxious motion. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah. They say hi." Steve slumps over and rests his head on Bucky's shoulder. "Natasha's worried about you. She says you haven't been calling."

"Yeah, well." Bucky shrugs with his bad shoulder, not wanting to jostle Steve from his half-cuddled up position. "She can tell my sad voice over the phone and she gets secrets outta me with her Russian superpowers. I haven't felt like dealing with that."

"She just cares." Steve sighs. "And I thought you were pretty clear about how _fine_ everything was lately?"

"Don't do the disappointed saint-voice on me, Stevie. I don't wanna fight." There's a weariness in his tone that Bucky can't hide, and he wonders if maybe this is the time for his whole honesty thing to kick in. He flexes the fingers on his bad hand nervously, thinking about how to get his words together in a way that won't disappoint his boyfriend.

"So things are really as fine as you've been saying?" Steve presses.

"I might've fudged a few details." Bucky mumbles quietly.

When Steve straightens up with a sigh, Bucky has a horrible moment of fear, wondering if this is the moment when he finally pushes his boyfriend too far. But his worries prove to be unfounded when Steve just leans over and picks up the plastic bag he'd dropped next to the couch.

"It's okay if you're not okay. I don't think I've been telling you that enough." He crinkles the plastic under his hands and Bucky frowns. Is he nervous? "You don't have to be perfect Buck, I know you're not there yet."

"But…" Bucky feels like he shrinks under Steve's unsteady gaze. His boyfriend is drunk as hell and a few words are still taking Bucky apart, he feels like it shouldn't be this easy to crack his mask.

"I was talking to Sam and Nat, and I figured out that I don't do enough to show you that I'm proud of you no matter how you're doing." He fiddles with the bag again, and Bucky wonders where he's going with this. He kind of wishes that Steve would give him a minute to get himself together enough to talk.

"Steve, I…"

"So, I know we can't have pets in the apartment. And I know you love Lucky and if we could then I'd get a dog and... And I know you said it helps to have something to hug when you're on your own and…" Steve trails off from his awkward rambling and hands over the bag. "It's a present."

"You… You got me a stuffed animal?" Bucky detangles it from the bag with wide eyes. The blond Labrador puppy toy is big enough to fit in the crook of his arm, soft and clean and perfect. He can't believe his eyes.

"I know it's just a stupid little thing, but I just wanted to give you something that… y'know? You can be not-okay with it, with me, and nothing bad is gonna happen." Steve is earnest in spite of his intoxication, and Bucky feels his walls cracking even as he looks at the dog in his hands. "I know you use one in Dr Erskine's office sometimes and I figured you deserved one that was just yours."

"I… I can keep it?" Bucky wants to smile but it's like his mouth is being tugged down at the corners. Steve nods happily, easing back into the couch.

"'Course you can. It's yours." Steve squeezes Bucky's arm gently. "Nobody's gonna take it away."

There's a long moment where Bucky just strokes his hands over the toy's fur, watching the colour change as it springs back into place. The softness under his skin grounds him, but somehow it makes some of the ice that's been holding him together melt. He wraps his arms around the dog and squeezes it and something in him just breaks down.

"I haven't been doing good." Bucky mumbles quietly, burying his face in the dog's fur so he doesn't have to look at Steve when he lets him down. "Dr Erskine said I'd have highs and lows, but lately the lows have been really bad. And I'm starting to think that this is as good as it gets, that maybe it'll be all downhill from here."

He takes a shuddery breath and can't look at Steve when he keeps talking. He can't stand to see the disappointment on his boyfriend's face, but he knows that if he stops now then he might never get the words out.

"I've been cutting myself. It brings me out of it when I start to have an episode, and it's the only thing that works when I'm on my own. But everything else that used to work has been working less and less, and I'm scared that it'll end up being the only thing that makes me feel better that isn't booze."

Bucky tries not to break down, because he's already spilling his guts out and he can't put more on Steve on top of that. Picturing the sadness in his expression is more than enough to make Bucky try desperately to keep himself under control.

"And then… I tried this thing with Clint today. Like what him and Natasha do. It wasn't sexual or anything and I know I should've asked you first but I… It made me feel better, like I was safe. And now I'm really fuckin' scared that it means I deserved what happened to me, because I can't have hated then it if it makes me feel better now and…" He swallows hard when his voice cracks and digs his fingers into the stuffed toy's fur to ground himself. "And I'm really scared 'cause I feel like I'm not in control of myself at all anymore and…"

A soft sigh makes him look up with tears brimming in his eyes, expecting to see judgement and disgust on his boyfriend's face.

What he sees instead is Steve with his head on the arm of the couch, fast asleep.

"Steve?"

There's no response, his eyelids don't even flutter. Bucky hides his face in the toy's fur again and breaks down, crushed by everything he'd tried to confess and finding out that it had all been for nothing. He cries like a child, unable to quiet himself or stop because it all seems so pointless.

Beside him, Steve doesn't hear a thing.

*

Joint therapy with Dr Erskine the following morning is tense, to say the least.

"So, Steven, how have you been?" The doctor is polite and smiling as usual, but Bucky can't raise a smile at his demeanour. Steve is still looking green around the gills, and some of Bucky's old sass comes through when he answers for him.

"He's a little hungover, Doc. You'll have to forgive him." He keeps his arms tightly folded, and he can feel Steve's eyes slide at him sideways. It's a look he remembers from when he wasn't sober, when he'd 'make a scene' and his friends were embarrassed.

Maybe he feels like making a scene, for once.

"Hungover?" Dr Erskine turns to Steve with raised eyebrows.

"It was a one-time thing, I had a couple of beers with a friend, maybe overestimated my limits." Steve pulls a tight smile. It drives Bucky crazy today that he's trying so hard to make the doctor think everything is okay. That's not what this appointment is for, and Bucky's kind of pissed.

"Okay, well. Maybe a few paracetamol are in order." Dr Erskine smiles and makes a note on his pad, glancing between them and clearly aware of the tension. "So, can I ask if there's anything either of you would like to bring up first today? Any concerns you've been having?"

"Yeah, I have something." Steve sits up a little straighter, and he's holding himself so stiff that Bucky's worried he's going to sprain something. "I'm concerned that Bucky's re-enacting his abuse."

Bucky's pretty sure he just got punched in the gut.

"What the _fuck_?" He whips his head around to look at his boyfriend, who carefully isn't meeting his eyes. Dr Erskine is looking between them like he doesn't know what he's supposed to do in this situation. "What are you talking about?"

"Yesterday. With Clint." He starts explaining the situation to the doctor, not even looking at Bucky. "Our friend takes part in BDSM scenes to help deal with his PTSD. Apparently he did something similar with Bucky yesterday."

"I'm sorry, I thought you were too busy being passed out drunk to hear that." Bucky can hear his voice rising and feel his hands start to tremble, and Dr Erskine is watching him with concern. "I told you there was nothing sexual about it."

"That's not what I'm worried about, I know it wasn't about sex." He's still looking at the doctor, and Bucky is _furious_. "I'm worried that he's re-enacting his abuse. Being tied up, following orders, it's all just like what happened with Hydra and it's only going to make him worse."

"Actually, some of my patients find it therapeutic to—"

"I can't believe you're _telling me_ how it's going to affect _me_." Bucky is absolutely livid now, doesn't even notice that he cuts Dr Erskine off in the middle of speaking. "Didn't we fuckin' talk about how you making decisions for me was fucking things up?"

"Well apparently that's what you _want_ with Clint, so…"

"Is this about Clint? It was a spur of the moment thing, Steve. I even told him that I wouldn't speak to Tasha about it until I'd told you!"

"So now you're talking to Tasha about it?"

"Maybe I would be if you hadn't been too passed out to hear me spilling my guts to you! I tried to open up to you and you fell asleep!" Bucky stands up, because his skin itches to share the couch with Steve right now. "Y'know, when you were drunk and I was afraid to kiss you in case you tasted like beer?!"

"I don't think this is a healthy way to discuss these issues. Perhaps if we take a moment to calm down…" Dr Erskine tries valiantly to calm the situation, but it's too late for that now.

Bucky's hands are shaking so hard that he has to try twice to grab his jacket from the arm of the couch. Steve is looking at him like he's slapped him, and there's part of Bucky that wishes he had. He's getting sick of never measuring up to any of the standards he's set, either by Steve or himself, and this might be the dam breaking.

"Sorry, Doc. I gotta get out of here."

"James, I don't think –"

"You're just gonna walk away? Y'know, I asked you before if you wanted to get better, and this isn't doing anything to convince me that you do." Steve looks so offended by Bucky's behaviour, and that's what makes him finally snap.

"This isn't about what you fuckin' think! All you do is fuckin' hover over me because you _still_ , even after everything we've been through, you _still_ don't trust me to know what I want or how to take care of myself! I love you, but you're fuckin' killing me." He shakily grabs the chain around his neck and rips it off, throwing it so it hits Steve in the chest. "Take your fuckin' AA chips and your good behaviour and your fuckin' _disappointment_ and shove it up your ass."

"Buck…" Steve looks shocked out of his judgemental expression, but Bucky's too far gone to stop now.

"I'm gonna stay with Tasha for a while."

"Bucky, don't –" Steve gets up and chases him when he storms out of the doctor's office, but by the time he hits the lobby his boyfriend is nowhere to be seen.

"Bucky?!" He calls out, looking around frantically and attracting more stares than he's comfortable with.

Nobody answers.


	7. It's All Over Now, Baby Blue

"James, you know I don't mind you staying here as long as you like." Natasha swoops in and takes away the fifth cup of coffee Bucky's started drinking this morning. "But you have to go to your appointments."

"I don't wanna." Comes the answering mumble from inside the heap of blankets that has absorbed Bucky Barnes. Natasha rolls her eyes and starts peeling layers away to try and find the centre of the bundle.

Bucky's been here for five days now. He hasn't changed out of his pyjamas since the first night, Steve still hasn't called, and Natasha is officially calling time on this little pity party. She isn't about to stand by and let all Bucky's hard-won progress slip away because of some guy.

And she loves Steve, but when it comes to Bucky everyone who threatens his stability will always be _some guy_ to Natasha.

"You're going, you might as well accept it." She finally gets to the human part of the bundle of blankets and Bucky hisses dramatically at the daylight. "Come on kotyonok, don't make me drag you."

"I don't have any clothes." Bucky's a little embarrassed by how childish the whine sounds, but he really doesn't want to leave his nest today. He's been in a depressed funk since he and Steve fought in Dr Erskine's office, and he doesn't feel like doing anything but wallowing in his own misery.

There are enough cuts under his brace that it's starting to hurt to put it on and take it off. It's not helping his mood any.

"Sam will lend you some." Natasha tugs on his arm and Bucky reluctantly gets to his feet, taking some of the blankets with him. The blue onesie pyjamas Darcy gave him for Christmas are warm, but he wants to hide as much as possible and the blankets help with that. "Go shower. I'll give you a ride to the doctor's office."

"My chest hurts." Bucky's voice is tiny and he's still curled in on himself, trying to make himself smaller. Natasha sighs, stroking her fingers gently over his ratty hair.

"Dorogaya, that's just anxiety. You're fine, and you're still going." She waits patiently until Bucky lifts his head and looks at her with big, sad eyes. She kisses him on the cheek and starts shepherding him towards the bathroom.

"That look stopped working on me years ago, you know." She pushes him into the bathroom, confiscating the blankets as he goes. "I'll find you some clothes, just go shower."

"You're way meaner since you started dating Sam." Bucky grumbles, but he starts to strip off his novelty pyjamas anyway. Even with his scars and his arm brace (and the whole being naked thing) he doesn't wait for her to close the door before he takes his clothes off. He and Natasha lost all boundaries a long time ago.

"He's a good influence. I'm too soft on you." She shuts the bathroom door once she's sure Bucky is getting in the shower and goes to dig out some of Sam's smaller clothes. Bucky's still building his muscle back, and he's still quite a bit smaller than most of the guys they know.

Natasha remembers him being even smaller. She remembers the first time she saw Bucky, when he was drifting around the offices at Hydra in a haze. It was common knowledge that he was Alexander Pierce's pet, that he wasn't to be messed around with or treated badly, but the guy was so passive and on so many chemicals that she saw him get fondled by people in the office on more than one occasion.

Natasha remembers when she was new at the studio and guys tried the same with her, seeing her lipstick and her smile and thinking her weak. She broke three fingers before they figured out that trying to grab he wouldn't end well for them. It was the vacant smile on the guy's face, the learned non-reaction to having his space violated, that had convinced her she wanted to find out who the Winter Soldier really was. There had to be something behind it, no one starts out as a shell.

_"Hi."_

_She waits until he's alone. They're gearing up for the next Winter Soldier tape, but the guy himself seems weirdly detached from all the talk around him. Natasha turns on all her charm and saunters over, but when he looks up she can see he's not going to be interested in the sway of her hips._

_"Hi." He blinks sleepily, pulling a slow smile. Whatever he's on, it seems like it's keeping him just about awake enough to speak and stand up. "Aren't you Natalia?"_

_"Natasha." She corrects him, surprised at the accent she can hear colouring his vowels. She's never heard him speak before, didn't expect to hear her mother tongue reflected back to her in the rhythms of his slightly slurred words._

_"Oh, sorry. I'm James." And he's the first guy here who actually offers her his hand to shake, doesn't look down her shirt or anything. Maybe he's just gay, but it's still a nice change._

_"You're Russian?" The smile that breaks over his face at her question is like the sun coming out from behind a dark cloud._

_"Da, ya. Vy takzhe?" Yeah, I am. You too? He doesn't stumble over these words and his eyes look clearer than Natasha has yet seen them. Even when he's trailing around after Pierce like a puppy, she's never seen him actually look at anything around him with interest until now._

_"Da, ya byl zdes' v techeniye dolgogo vremeni, odnako." Yes, but I've been here for a long time. He smiles wider when she explains, and there's almost something like relief washing over his pale features._

_"Mne tozhe."There's definitely relief in his voice when he tells her he has, too._

_The moment is ruined when Alexander Pierce appears behind James' elbow. He's got that bland smile on his face that reminds Natasha of a predator._

_"Yakov." His hand is gripped tight around James' arm, and Natasha can see where the flesh is pinched white between his fingers. "What did we say about you using English?"_

_"Sorry, Sasha." James ducks his head submissively, instinctively doing everything he can to minimize Pierce's negative reaction. "I forgot."_

_"That's okay, darling."_

_Natasha carefully keeps her face blank as Pierce kisses James on the cheek. She thinks the old guy is a certified creep, and she's beginning to think that this kid doesn't have enough of his wits about him to be agreeing to what goes on in the Winter Soldier shoots. But Pierce is her boss, so she keeps her mouth shut._

_The next time she sees James, he's got a black eye and a split lip streaming blood down his chin. Natasha cleans him up, sitting on the sink in the women's bathroom where no one will come looking for him. That's when he tells her that people call him Bucky sometimes. She doesn't change what she calls him, because he's so high that time that he stutters and she's not sure he knows what he's saying._

_The third time he's crying, and she hides him in her dressing room as Brock Rumlow storms past with his pants unbuttoned and a face like thunder. She gets him dressed and gives him her flask of vodka, and he calms down after a few swigs._

_After that, Natasha starts seeing James once or twice a week, whenever he's allowed to come to the studio with Pierce. She's the one who sees the email over Jasper Sitwell's shoulder, the one from Shield offering to buy out the Winter Soldier's contract for an unlimited price. She's the one who passes the information along to James, who convinces him that he needs to leave and that he should go with Shield even if he doesn't trust them._

_He's the one who refuses to leave without Shield buying out Natasha's contract too. Natasha can't deny that she's touched, nobody's ever come back for her before._

Natasha watches him walk into the office, makes sure that Bucky actually goes into the building and doesn't take off down the street. She hates treating him like a flight risk all the time, but after the last time he disappeared she feels like it's justified. Bucky insists he can get himself home, and she wants to avoid the fight that'll happen if she tries to second-guess him and pick him up after therapy. She'll trust him to get himself home, it's all she can do.

Across the street, Brock Rumlow also watches Bucky walk into the building. He knows his target's appointments last just over an hour, and he's got nowhere to be except this parking lot. When Natasha drives away there's nothing left standing in his way.

Now he just has to wait.

*

"Hey, Bucky!"

Bucky freezes like he's just heard a predator growl at him. He turns on his heel, his face still puffy from crying and stinging in the wind after his stupid therapy session, to see Brock standing behind him with a big smile on his face. He backs up a few steps on instinct.

"Hey…" Brock holds his hands up to try and show he's friendly, but Bucky doesn't let his guard down for a second.

"Keep away from me." He shakes his head, trying to wrap his mind around what's happening. His first thought is that he wishes Steve was here. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Brock doesn't move any closer, but Bucky doesn't stop watching him like he's a bomb about to go off. "I have therapy in this building, I didn't know you did too."

"Bullshit." Bucky spits out, not believing a word of it.

"It's true. I severed all my ties to the company and it kinda messed me up." Brock's voice softens. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry, okay? I'm really sorry about everything that happened between us. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that."

"It… You didn't take advantage. I made the choice to let you fuck me for money." The words are matter of fact, but Bucky's tone isn't sharp. He's confused, doesn't know whether to believe a word of Brock's story.

But no one from Hydra has ever apologised to him before. It's a unique enough event that it makes him pause.

"Still. It was a really shitty thing to do, and I'm sorry." Brock fumbles in his pocket, and Bucky thinks he's going for the tazer he remembers so clearly for a second, before he pulls out a little wallet. He flips it open and shows Bucky an AA chip. "I've got thirty days. I was relapsing when we got together and it didn't help me make good decisions."

"Me too." Bucky lets his guard down a little, because he knows how rocky the beginning is. "I've got a year now."

"That's awesome, man. Congrats." Brock grins again, and Bucky can't help but twitch a smile back. Brock seems to understand it's an _achievement_ , not a stepping stone or just something he should be expected to do. "I'd offer to take you for a cup of coffee to celebrate, but you probably don't want that."

Bucky hesitates, and that's enough of an opening for Brock to deliver the final blow in the charm offensive.

"It's just kinda hard to talk to anyone about Hydra if they weren't there, y'know? They don't get it. It's hard to find somebody with shared life experience."

That's what sways him. Bucky thinks of all the times he's tried to explain the atmosphere of the company to Steve, the way that they gave him choices that weren't really choices, that he said yes to things he didn't want to say yes to and it makes him feel like he deserved what happened to him. Steve didn't understand, no matter how hard he tried, because he wasn't there.

Brock was there.

"I could get a cup of coffee." He relents, finally. "I got a few hours before work."

He sees Brock smile. He doesn't see him pressing send on a message on his phone the second Bucky turns around.

In the end, he doesn't even have to taze him.


	8. Kidnap Blues

"What do you mean he didn't come home?"

"I was hoping he'd gone over to see you." There's a worried crease in Natasha's forehead as she stands on Steve's doorstep, and his mood goes from curious to concerned so fast it feels like a car crash. "I already called Clint, he didn't show up for work."

"Shit." Steve stands aside to let her come in, although his mind is already racing with thoughts of how he's going to find Bucky. "What happened?"

"I dropped him off at therapy, he never went to work after. I called the doctor's office and they said he left like normal." Natasha isn't surprised when Steve tugs his shoes on without a moment's hesitation. "He's not answering his phone."

"Fuck." Steve grabs his keys and then they're both heading out of the apartment again. "Any idea where he might have gone? I know a few bars we can check."

"I can think of a few places." She keeps pace with him, even though Steve is rushing like hell. "That's if he went by himself."

That's what makes him stop dead in his tracks.

"You think…" He shakes his head, trying not to fall into the tide of horrible thoughts that are washing over him. "Don't even say it. Just because Pierce showed up at the bar once it doesn't mean he…"

"You're right, it doesn't. There's no need to panic." Natasha squeezes his arm gently, regretting that she said anything. "He probably just had a rough time in therapy and wandered off."

Steve nods and starts walking again, because what else can he do? Until they find Bucky they won't know anything, and panicking before then isn't going to solve anything.

He completely forgets that he and Bucky had been fighting. Some things are more important.

*

_"Oh, Yakov. What am I going to do with you?"_

_Bucky doesn't remember what happened after the coffee shop. He remembers starting to get a headache halfway through drinking the cup of coffee Brock bought him. The other man had offered him an aspirin and Bucky took it, because he saw the bottle and didn't think anything of it._

_He doesn't remember what happened after he swallowed the pill. Everything went black._

_The next thing he knows is waking up in a room. He's lying on a mattress, the old springs digging into his bony spine so hard he wonders how the hell he managed to sleep through it. He doesn't know how long he's been out, and any thoughts or attempts to gather information about his surroundings end when the familiar voice slithers through the room._

_"What happened to my sweet boy, hm?" There's a hand stroking over his hair, and Bucky is too frozen to shudder. "You cut off your lovely hair, you got fat, and I don't even want to think about what you've done to your poor arm."_

_Bucky sits up gingerly, expecting to be tied down or injured in some way. But the only pain he feels comes from the shitty mattress digging into his back and the cuts on his arm, which are exposed to the air now someone has removed his brace and bandages. Alexander Pierce is sitting beside his bed, and he reaches up to brush the hair out of Bucky's eyes with the expression of a disappointed parent._

_"Nobody's been looking after you properly, have they?" He runs a finger softly down Bucky's cheek, and Bucky still can't move. "My poor little boy."_

*

"Anything?"

"No." Steve rests his head against the wall, resisting the urge to bang it until something about this makes sense. He can hear Clint sigh over the other end of the line and he resists the urge to bring up the whole _hey you tied my boyfriend up_ thing. "Checked all his regular haunts, nothing."

"Phil talked to Shield, Nick Fury said nobody there has heard from him. And we've got a keyword tracer on 'winter soldier'. If anything happens online, we'll know about it." Steve doesn't even want to ask whether or not it's illegal for them to do that. "We really need you to come in tonight."

"I can't." He's already shaking his head. "What if he comes home?"

"Steve, you can pick up your phone any time while you're working. He'll call if he needs you." Clint sounds like he's trying his best to be patient, and the strain in his voice is setting Steve's teeth on edge. "We need you to work tonight, the world can't stop every time Bucky takes off."

"Well maybe if _someone_ hadn't got him all shaken up a couple of days before then none of this would have happened."

"Excuse me?" Steve can hear Phil speaking quietly on the other end, picture Clint waving him away. "I was helping my friend out. You were the one who blindsided him in front of his therapist and completely ignored what he wanted to tell you."

"How the fuck do you know –"

"Because unlike you, I listen to him instead of falling asleep drunk."

"I don't believe you!" Steve pushes off the wall way more force than he needs to. "You're the one who fucking tied my _traumatised_ boyfriend up and thought it was a good idea."

"Did you ask him if _he_ thought it was a good idea? Or is that just another decision you made for him?"

"If you think I'm gonna –"

"Steve." Phil comes over the line, clearly having confiscated the phone from his husband. "We need you from eight tonight, Steve. If Bucky calls and you need to go then you're welcome to, but we are going to need you to come in as usual."

"Phil…"

"If he's not back by tomorrow then we can report it to the police, okay?" Phil's voice is gentle but firm, and Steve sighs quietly. "But tonight you and Clint need to be professional. Whatever problems you're having can get worked out once you find Bucky, alright?"

"I… Yeah." Steve nods, even though his friend can't see it. "I'm sorry, I'm just…"

"I know." Phil fills in the silence quietly. "Clint went AWOL a few times. I get it."

Steve breaks down when he hangs up the phone. He forces himself to calm down after a couple of minutes because he has to get ready for work. His friends are right, he can't let himself go to pieces and let everything stop just because Bucky is gone.

On the second day Sam doesn't say 'I told you so', but he comes pretty close. He does give Steve a book about living with an addict, which isn't the most sympathetic thing he's ever done. Steve knows he's trying to help, but he hates the fact that all of his friends think Bucky has just gone off on a bender.

All except Natasha and Clint, who share Steve's concern about Pierce showing up at the bar. Clint and Steve reach an uneasy truce, mostly because Natasha and Phil both summarily refuse to put up with them sniping at each other. They agree to put the argument on ice, at least until they figure out what's happened to Bucky.

Phil takes Steve to report Bucky missing. He politely doesn't mention that Steve is trying not to cry all the way home.

*

_"Sasha, please…"_

_"I warned you, sweetheart." Pierce doesn't pet his hair this time, and Bucky hates himself for wishing he would. "We talked about you gaining all this awful weight. And then I catch you stealing food."_

_The tutting feels like a death sentence, and Bucky drops his head sadly. He's on his knees in front of Pierce, and all he can look at is the muzzle in his hands. The black, latex thing that he'd hated so much when he was the Winter Soldier, just knowing it's in the same room as him is enough to make his heart pound almost out of his chest._

_He wants to throw up. He wants to run away. He wants Steve._

_"I-I didn't mean to. I was just hungry an-and…"_

_"Shh. It's okay." Pierce still doesn't pet his hair, and Bucky whines low in his throat. "You need correction after you've been away for so long, I know you've had people filling your head with all kinds of nonsense. You need retraining, and I'm here to help you with that."_

_"P-Please don't put it on me."_

_"I told you before, pet. If you use your mouth for the wrong things then I'm going to have to muzzle it." Pierce twists his fingers in his hair and yanks Bucky's head up to look at him. "You were warned."_

_"I'll be good. Please don't." Bucky begs, shaking harder than he thought was possible. Pierce just smiles his sharklike smile and shakes his head slowly, enjoying the trembling he can feel through the hand wrapped in his plaything's hair._

_It's then that Bucky realises no one is coming to rescue him._

_Maybe it's time he started rescuing himself._

*

"Hi, this is Detective Phillips from the NYPD." Steve immediately sits up straighter. "Is this Steve Rogers?"

"Yeah, yeah that's me." The conversation around him dies down as his friends get a look at his face.

"We've got a James Barnes in custody here." Phillips pauses and Steve can hear him flipping through paper. "We picked him up on the Upper East Side several hours ago, he was very disoriented and appeared to be intoxicated."

"Oh God." Steve covers his eyes, torn between relief that he knows where Bucky is and anger because of what he's hearing. "Is he okay?"

"He's very confused, that's why we're calling." Phillips flips through the file again. "Any intoxication should have worn off by now, but he tested negative for alcohol and he still seems to have little memory of the last few days. One thing he seems to remember very well is your phone number."

"Yes, he's my boyfriend." Steve stands up and starts pacing, Lucky scrambling out of his way as he walks. "He has episodes of memory loss and he's been missing for three days. Is he okay?"

"He's okay. His feet are cut up pretty bad since he was walking around without shoes on, but apart from that and having not eaten for a few days he's physically fine." Phillips explains, his tone clearly intended to calm Steve down. "We cleaned him up and gave him something to eat, but he's still very agitated and confused. Has he missed medication?"

"Yes, for a couple of days." Steve rubs his hand over his eyes, already searching for his shoes. His friends, who had been watching him in stunned silence, spring into action around him. "Can I come and get him?"

"Sure. We picked him up for his own good, he hasn't done anything wrong."

"Thank you so much, we've been worried sick. What precinct is he at?" Steve barely even notices that Phil hands him a pen and pad to write down the address. "Okay, thank you again. I'll be down there in a half hour."

As soon as he hangs up, the questions start.

"What the hell happened?" Clint speaks louder than everyone else and is the only voice he registers over the worried babble.

"Bucky got picked up by the cops, it seems like maybe he had an episode and got lost." Steve looks around for his jacket, flustered. "I gotta go pick him up and…"

"I'll drive you." Sam already has his car keys in hand as Natasha hands Steve his jacket, and Bucky's too. "Is he alright?"

"They said he doesn't know where he is and he doesn't remember the last couple of days." His friends are already shepherding him out of the door, not letting him freeze up in panic. "I need to…"

"You need to let Sam take you to pick up Bucky." Natasha exchanges a glance with Clint before she follows them outside. "I'll come with you in case he isn't speaking English, and Phil and Clint will be here in case we need anything. It's going to be okay."

Steve just lets his friends pull him out to the car without protest.

Bucky's alive, that's all he needs to know. Everything else is secondary.


	9. Let it Go

"You're here to pick up James Barnes?"

"Yes. I'm his partner." Steve is trying his best to stay calm, but he's too agitated now that he knows Bucky is here and he's not right in front of him. "Detective Phillips said I could take him home."

"I'm aware." The officer at the desk makes a note on the sheet in front of her. "Do you have some ID with you?"

"Yeah, sure." Steve searches in his pockets for his wallet and fishes out his ancient driver's licence. He hands it to the officer and she notes down the details quickly. "When can I see him?"

"It'll be a little while. Detective Phillips would like to speak to you first."

"Why does he –"

"We'll notify him that you're here and he'll be down in a few minutes." She smiles gently, like she's familiar with telling desperate people to _just wait a few minutes_. "If you could take a seat, he'll be here shortly."

"Is there something wrong? He said over the phone –"

"I'm sure everything is fine, it's often standard procedure to talk to the caregiver in cases dealing with vulnerable adults." Steve tries really hard not to baulk at _vulnerable adult_ and _caregiver_ and her bland, sympathetic smile. "If you just take a seat for a few minutes then I'm sure Detective Phillips will answer all your questions."

Steve is vaguely aware of Natasha thanking the officer as she tugs him back over to the seats. Sam is already there waiting for them, and she gives him a quick rundown while Steve just sits there, waiting for someone to tell him what the hell is going on.

They've got it all wrong, that's the first thing he wants to tell them so badly. He's not Bucky's caregiver, and his boyfriend isn't _vulnerable_. He has a job and he's been doing well, staying sober of his own accord and working through his issues and…

And yet the first time he's trusted to get himself home after a doctor's appointment he goes missing for three days.

Watching the hall for Detective Phillips to show up, Steve still refuses to entertain the possibility that Bucky might need more support than he's been getting. They've been trying, he's been doing well. He's getting _better_.

Hasn't he?

"Steve Rogers?"

He's so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't even see the uniformed man come to stand in front of him. So busy watching the hall in the other direction that it's a surprise when he looks up and realises he's being addressed.

"Detective Phillips? Hi." Steve stands up in a rush. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"I do." Detective Phillips is older, greying and in maybe his early fifties, and his grizzled face isn't a comforting one as he beckons Steve down the hall. "Come this way, please. Your friends can wait out here."

Steve follows the detective down the hall to a small interview room, sitting down in the chair that's indicated to him. Phillips settles himself opposite and flips open a file, fishing out some kind of form before he glances up at Steve.

"You don't have to look so worried, son. I just want to get a little more information." He pulls out a sheet of paper and slides a pen out of his front pocket. The click somehow feels ominous. "So you and James are a couple? Do you live together?"

"Yes sir." Steve nods quickly. The habitual politeness he falls into when dealing with someone who can put him in jail makes him irritate himself, but he figures the better he behaves, the quicker Bucky's coming home.

"So you're primarily responsible for his day-to-day welfare?"

"He's responsible for that himself." Steve explains, trying to ignore his instinct to go on the defensive. "Him going missing came out of the blue, he hasn't had an episode like that for a long time. He's usually okay apart from some problems with his short-term memory, I swear."

"So you'd say this is out of character?"

"Yes, totally."

"That makes me more concerned, if anything." The detective circles something on his paper, and that's totally not what Steve wanted his complete denial to achieve. "Can you think of any reason why his condition might have deteriorated this rapidly?"

"We had a fight about a week ago and he's been staying with a friend. Maybe his routine just got messed up? He's been kinda depressed but honestly, I don't know." Steve shakes his head, starting to get really concerned about whatever Phillips is noting down. It looks like there are more crosses than checkmarks on his sheet of paper.

"And has he indicated any suicidal feelings to you? Any intent to harm himself or others?"

Steve just shakes his head again, his stomach dropping. Phillips underlines something and clicks his pen closed again with a sigh, folding his hands on the table and pinning Steve down under his searching gaze.

"Okay, here's what's happening." The detective starts, his tone brusque and clipped. "I'm going to recommend that James gets seen by a state-appointed psychiatrist and assessed by a social worker depending on what the psychiatrist thinks. Social services will take it from there if they need to."

"What? Why?" There's a part of Steve's brain that just can't register what he's hearing, and he thinks he might be gaping at Phillips right now.

"I'm not convinced that we're releasing James into a safe living situation, not given the condition we found him in and the way he's been interacting with staff here. He's hostile to strangers and he has trouble following a conversation."

"I… He's perfectly safe. He's not usually like this." Steve tries not to clench his fists as he feels the blood drain from his face with shock. "He's coming _home_ , he'll be fine."

"I hate to be the one to break this to you, but your partner has a lot of self-inflicted injuries. Cuts on his arm, things like that." Phillips' voice actually softens a little from its usual brusque gravel, and somehow that makes Steve feel worse. "Now that he's come to our attention, especially in the circumstances, we need to make sure he's not a danger to himself."

"But he… He's been fine." Steve shakes his head and tries to get his head back online. Bucky's future might hang in the balance. "He's… He's been doing good."

"I know this is a shock, son, but it's nothing to worry about. We're just trying to get James the care he needs."

"Getting him locked up in some goddamn hospital isn't what he needs." Steve can't help blurting out the scathing words, but Phillips doesn't rise to the anger in his voice.

"Social services aren't going to do anything that's not necessary, Steve." Phillips signs the bottom of the form he's been filling in and closes it back into the file. He stands up and lets out a short sigh when Steve doesn't immediately follow. "Come on, kid. I'll take you up to see him."

The halls are a blur. Scenarios run into each other behind Steve's eyes, and he doesn’t notice anything around him because his catastrophic thoughts are taking up all his attention. He has visions of visiting Bucky twice a week in a hospital, of all the horror stories Dr Erskine told them to caution against heavy medication coming true. He pictures Bucky forgetting who he is again, and he wants to punch everything in his way until something breaks enough to fix his boyfriend.

Then Phillips is opening a door and everything behind Steve's eyes just fizzles out, because Bucky is right there.

Steve is crossing the room in three strides and throwing his arms around Bucky. There's no force on Earth that could have stopped him.

"Jesus, Buck." Steve doesn't even register that he's dropped to his knees as he gently pushes the hair out of his boyfriend's face to get a better look at him. His face is definitely bruised, he looks like he hasn't slept since he left, and there's a familiar clouded look in his eyes. But he's there, he's warm, and he's breathing.

"Are you okay? I was so fuckin' worried."

Bucky blinks sluggishly and his eyes slowly slide into focus. Steve's heart sinks, Phillips hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said Bucky was in a bad way.

"Steve?" He grips his boyfriend's sleeve with his good hand when he recognises him. "I got lost."

"I know Buck, but we found you." Steve forces a smile that he's sure isn't convincing, but Bucky's mouth twitches up in return so it's worth the strain. "It's gonna be okay now, you're gonna come home."

"Home with you? Not Natka?" The little bit of language mixing isn't a great sign, but it's only a nickname and Bucky seems like he's perking up now so Steve doesn't think it's too bad.

"If you want to." He's nodding furiously before Steve gets the words out, and he doesn't have to force his smile this time. "Okay, you're coming home with me. We'll get you some food and you can sleep, alright? You look beat."

"I was lost, I couldn't sleep." Bucky mumbles quietly, and Steve doesn't even look back at Phillips. This is so far away from where Bucky's got to, and he hates that people are seeing him this way.

"I know, sweetheart. But you can now, you're safe." Steve nods gently and gets to his feet, keeping his hand on Bucky's arm as he looks back to Detective Phillips. "Can I take him home now?"

"Sure. Come with me and we'll get the paperwork taken care of."

Steve keeps his arm around Bucky as they walk back through the halls, mindful of the way he limps and the fact Phillips said his feet were cut up. Bucky seems pretty out of it, and Steve's hoping that's mostly the medication he's missed doses of, but he seems weirdly happy. At least, more positive than he usually does when he's coming out of an episode.

"I gotta secret." Bucky leans over and speaks quietly in Steve's ear. His face is cold when it brushes against Steve's, but it feels better than anything Steve's felt for the last week.

"Yeah?" He's pretty desperate to find out what the hell happened over the last few days, and maybe this will give him a clue. "What's that?"

"I saved myself." Bucky whispers, a hesitant little smile on his lips. "Ya udaril yego."

"I don't know what that means, babe. I'm sorry." Steve should have known this would happen, and he hates not knowing what his boyfriend said, but Bucky doesn't seem daunted.

It doesn't matter if Steve knows. _He_ knows, that's what's making him smile through the bruises.

Bucky saved himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ya udaril yego." - "I hit him."


	10. Control

_You got fat._

It's strange, the things that stick in his head. Some days all Bucky can think about is the mask, the muzzle, that buckled around the back of his head and covered up his mouth. It used to catch in his hair, yank out strands or chunks depending on how careful the person handling him was. There was one client who liked to come on the Soldier's face while he wore it, watching for every twitch of reaction as white striped over black.

Pierce mostly used it for training, to teach the Soldier self-control or punish him by not allowing him to eat or drink. It was only used when he was supervised, because he was on so many chemicals that there was too big a chance of him puking and choking it he was on his own. Wouldn't make sense to invest so much time and effort into merchandise if it was just going to puke itself to death.

Being _fat_ is a loss of control. Bucky doesn't think he's ever made the choice to eat of his own accord, that was trained out of him pretty early on at Hydra. Other people are still making his decisions for him, that's what gaining the paltry weight and muscle he's managed to build back means. At least, that's how it all stitches together in his head.

Bucky saved himself once, and he's _done_ with other people calling the shots.

Choosing not to eat when he's told to feels like liberation. Puking and not being punished for it is freedom. He is a sovereign nation and if he wants to be empty then he will be. Saying no is still foreign to him, so he does it quietly, secretly. He sits there with his empty stomach and a little smile on his face because this is just for him. The inside of his head had always been the only thing he owned at Hydra, and now it's something he doesn't intend to share with anyone.

Steve is worried. Bucky figures that's not his problem.

*

"He's… quiet." Steve looks down at his hands and tries to think of how to explain his boyfriend's behaviour. "He's very… still. It's weird."

"Has he remembered anything else about what happened during the time he was missing?" Dr Erskine makes a note and takes in Steve's defeated posture. Joint therapy has been suspended, for the time being. It's more important that they each have their own space to vent.

"He says he hasn't, but I think he knows and he just doesn't want to talk." He sighs quietly and tries not to get too maudlin about it. "Which is okay, I mean he doesn't have to tell me. I just wanna know that he's okay."

"But you feel powerless, because you don't know all the facts." Erskine isn't surprised when Steve nods. "You have to let go of the notion that controlling James will help him."

"But what about this BDSM shit?" Steve counters immediately, defensive. "I'm not trying to do _that_ to him, and apparently he _wants_ to be controlled there."

"Maybe some more information will help you, in this case." Erskine folds his hands and proceeds to explain. "In a controlled context, that of a 'scene' between a dominant and submissive person, the submissive holds all the power. They are freely choosing to relinquish control of themselves for a set period of time, allowing the dominant to take control. But if they say the word then everything stops, it is entirely at their discretion."

Steve isn't sure he gets it, but he thinks he's starting to.

"It can be very liberating for someone who has been disempowered to choose to be controlled in this way." Erskine continues. "Putting themselves back in a powerless situation, this time with the knowledge that they have the power to stop it, may help them to re-contextualise their abuse."

"You think this is something that could help him?" Steve asks hesitantly, not sure he's comfortable with any of this. He couldn't stand to be someone that Bucky was afraid of, even if he got into that position by accident.

"Possibly." Erskine nods. "But we're not here to talk about James. We're here to talk about you."

"There isn't much to talk about, doc." Steve shrugs with a hollow laugh. "I spend most of my time worrying about him, these days."

"Steven, that might be part of the problem."

*

Bucky has dinner ready when Steve gets home. He's nice like that.

Half of it is already gone.

"Sorry I already ate, I was starving." He kisses Steve softly with a smile, tasting like mint. He always tastes like mint, ever since he came back from wherever the fuck he disappeared to. He tastes like mint and he showers more than once a day, and Steve is at once terrified and has to know what he's trying to clean away.

"That's alright." He pauses and wraps Bucky in a hug before he goes to make himself a plate. He's trying to temper the bad feeling that just won't settle in his stomach, because for all intents and purposes everything seems fine. "Did Sam come over?"

"I was very effectively babysat." It would have been grudging before, annoyed, but now Bucky's tone is just amused. "How was the doc?"

"German and cryptic, same as usual." Steve shrugs and Bucky snorts. "We talked about the, um, the thing with Clint. The submission thing."

"Steve, I don't wanna fight again…" Bucky pulls away and disappears into the living room. Steve follows him, not surprised to see he's made a beeline for the couch and curled up with the stuffed dog wedged between him and the arm.

"We won't fight, I'm not mad." He waits until Bucky scrutinises his expression for honesty and nods before he sits down on the couch. "The doc explained it to me and I think I get it now."

"You do?" Bucky sits up, interested. He's better at following a conversation since he got back on his medication, but he still has a tendency to space out and sometimes needs to be brought back down to Earth. There's no trace of that in his sudden focus.

"I think so. He explained about the power dynamics and how it's not a bad thing to re-enact what happened in a different context." He puts his hand on Bucky's knee before he continues, taking a deep breath to steel himself. "So what I wanted to say is, I'm on board if you wanna try it."

"Steve…" Bucky's eyes are wide as saucers, and Steve could swear his cheekbones have got sharper since he came back. "Are you sure? I can talk to Nat and –"

"I mean, with me." Steve cuts him off, having to blurt the words out before he loses his nerve. "I want you to try it with me."

"But…" Bucky is still lookin at him like he's got two heads. "Really? You hated the idea of it so much…"

"That's because I felt like I failed you. I felt like I wasn't there to protect you and someone took advantage of you." Steve squeezes Bucky's knee nervously, trying to explain himself. "I know I'm a control freak sometimes, and I'm trying to deal with that. But if we do it together then I'll _know_ you're safe. See what I mean?"

Bucky thinks for a long moment before he looks up at Steve and twitches a hesitant smile.

"So I'm Thelma and you're Louise, and we're gonna hold hands and drive off this cliff together?"

In reply, Steve just takes his hand. Looks like they are.


	11. Carry That Weight

"I need two mojitos and a beer."

It's Bucky's first night back at work, it's 11pm, and he's already starting to get overwhelmed.

His head is swimming, that’s his biggest problem. It's been a while since he ate anything and kept it down, a few days maybe. He's having trouble staying focused on what he's doing, and he's fucking up cocktails left and right. His arm brace feels heavy, a hindrance instead of a help, and all the spilt liquor and drinks behind the bar smell too intense for him to ignore.

This is the first time he's really wanted to drink in a while. His skin itches.

A cocktail umbrella wedges itself into the shelf beside his head with a _plunk_ , and Bucky turns to see Clint waving at him.

_Do you need a break?_ He signs. _You look weird_.

Bucky fights the urge to roll his eyes, because Clint is always direct and signing takes away any filter he might have had verbally. Bucky's glad he learned ASL, because learning and practicing with Clint had kept him grounded and focused during those unstable first few months away from Hydra, but he wishes he could claim ignorance sometimes.

_Five minutes._ He replies quickly, before he sets down the drinks he's just made and collects payment. He's making decent money in tips tonight, he must be keeping his front up pretty well.

When he gets out back to smoke, though, his façade quickly falls apart. There's no one here to see him _thunk_ his forehead repeatedly against the wall to try and knock some sense into himself. He's been seeing things again since he got back in control of his eating: those split-second shadows and ghosts that appear in the corner of his eye when he turns his head too fast.

And since those three days when no one came to save him, he keeps seeing Alexander Pierce. Standing in the crowd at the bar. Sitting in a booth across the club. Always with a bloody nose, always with that look on his face that said his pet had gone too far this time.

You don't discipline a rabid dog, you put it down.

"Buck?"

Bucky almost feels betrayed when Steve's head makes its predictable appearance around the fire exit door. He wonders who told him his crazy boyfriend was acting up this time, probably Darcy since she's the least familiar with the difference between okay-crazy Bucky and not-okay-crazy Bucky.  

"Did Darcy send you out here?" Bucky's voice is too hollow to be annoyed, and that's what convinces Steve to step outside and let the fire exit clunk closed behind him.

"She said you seemed kinda freaked out." He acquiesces, walking over to his boyfriend. "How are you doing?"

There's a moment where Bucky tries to muster up the energy to put his mask back on, to get himself together enough to smile sheepishly and lie well enough for the pinched look on Steve's face to go away. But that one moment is all he can manage before every bit of energy he has just fizzles out to nothing, shutting down like an old TV set turning off. He sighs and looks up at Steve, his eyes weary and unguarded.

"Not good." He admits quietly. "I'm kinda all over the place, to be honest."

"Do you wanna go home?" Steve asks, careful to leave the decision entirely up to Bucky.

"And do what? Be fucked up somewhere there's nobody to notice if I hack a chunk outta myself?" Bucky sighs, looking down at the wet concrete between their feet. "I wanna feel better, Steve. That's what I want."

The silence stretches this time, elastic, and Bucky can't blame Steve for that. He knows he's asking the impossible, or at least it feels like it, because on nights like this he's almost totally sure that there's no getting better for him. It doesn't matter how much progress he makes, how hard he tries to claw back a little control of himself, all it ever takes is one bad night to make him feel like he's all the way back at square one.

The thing is, he hasn't counted on how determined Steve is to be his shield.

"Come here. No, wait." Steve breaks the silence with a familiar undertone of steely determination in his voice, in spite of not being entirely sure what he's going to do yet.

Bucky doesn't understand what's happening. Steve reaches to his sides and grabs each of his boyfriend's bony wrists, wrapping strong fingers firmly around them before he holds them against the wall. In the same movement, all nearly-two-hundred-pounds of his muscle press Bucky back into the brick. Bucky doesn't have to struggle to know that he can't move.

"Steve?" His voice is weak, and Steve presses their foreheads together with a soft shushing noise.

"There's nothing on Earth that's gonna get through me to you." He speaks gently, reassuringly, but there's something commanding about his tone. "You're safe, Bucky. I'm calling the shots right now, and we're gonna stay here until you _feel_ safe again."

"Steve…" Bucky can't deny that he feels some of the tension leave his muscles just at the tone of Steve's voice. He doesn't trust himself right now, and Steve is stopping him from doing anything stupid.

"Shh. It's okay." Steve tilts his head a fraction so he can press a kiss to the bridge of Bucky's nose. "Traffic lights, okay? Just like we used to do on set. If you say red then everything stops, but until then I'm in control here."

His head hurts, and there's a pressure and heat behind his eyes that tell him he's going to fucking cry again.

"I-I can't." He stutters, not really sure of what he's saying as it spills out. "I feel like I'm falling apart. I'm in pieces."

"You can fall apart. I'll hold you together." Steve doesn't sound surprised, and he doesn't react when the first tears start to roll down Bucky's cheeks except to kiss the tracks they leave.

They stay like that for a long time, pressed together as Bucky fights inside himself because there's no point in fighting Steve. He feels protected like this, like there's something stopping all the blackness and horrible feelings that lurk under his surface from spilling out. He doesn't sob, he doesn't scream, but there's something cathartic about being there, being held steady as he comes apart at the seams.

When he calms down, when there aren't any tears left, Steve finally speaks again.

"Buck, what happened when you went missing?" It's barely a whisper, but it feels like a roar to Bucky. Every shell he's built to defend himself could come crashing down if Steve just prods the right spot.

"I don't remember." The excuse spills out automatically, but Steve just shakes his head and tightens his hands a little around Bucky's wrists.

"Bucky, I know you remember." He's still as gentle as ever, but there's a firmness to his tone now. "You need to tell me. You need to let me help you carry this weight, because it's crushing you."

"I-I…"

"Please, sweetheart. Please let me help you."

It's the physical contact and the horrible hollowness in his stomach and the cold brick behind him and everything at once that finally cracks Bucky open. The words are broken, but they spill out past all his sharp edges.

"I-I fucked up." He whispers, so quiet that Steve has to lean closer to hear. "I let it happen."

"What happened?" Steve presses again.

Bucky closes his eyes before he confesses. He can't look at Steve's reaction.

"Sasha found me."


	12. Straight to Hell

Things are weirdly calm for a couple of weeks after Bucky breaks down and confesses that Pierce took him.

Bucky straight-up refuses to report Pierce to the police. He won't get the cops involved, he won't file for a restraining order, and he won't even tell his therapist about it. He's determined to pretend that nothing happened at all, won't tell Steve another word about what transpired over those three days. He won't explain why he said it was his fault, won't elaborate on any of the cryptic things he said in that rainy alley.

He stays carefully blank and just leaves the conversation whenever his boyfriend tries to broach the subject. Steve's noticed him withdrawing more and more from the people around him, and it gets to the point where he's pretty sure Bucky isn't talking to anyone but him. He makes Steve wait for him outside the doctor's office when he goes to therapy and stops trying to get home on his own, and it feels like a step backwards. Steve fucking hates that Pierce has done this to his boyfriend all over again, and he especially hates that Bucky won't do anything to get back at him for it.

The part that really makes him worry is that Bucky doesn't want to sleep with him anymore. Bucky's always gone through short phases where he finds physical contact difficult, but it's never lasted this long before. It goes so far this time that he stops even changing his clothes in front of Steve, starts getting dressed in the bathroom and layering up sweaters and shirts like they don't have the heat on in the apartment.

Steve could swear he feels him shiver in bed next to him at night, but he can't put his arms around Bucky and find out.

"C'mon babe, we're gonna be late." He fixes his hair a final time in the mirror and calls out to Bucky where he's still crashing around in the bedroom. "The reservation's at eight."

"I'm coming." Bucky calls back, halfway under the bed when Steve comes looking for him. "I can't find my belt."

"You put it on the chair every time, babe." Steve grins to himself and finds the belt exactly where he'd expected it to be. He squints at it for a second, noticing the new notches that have clearly been punched through it recently with a kitchen knife or a screwdriver, but Bucky's plucking it out of his hands before he can look too closely.

"Thanks." He leans up and kisses Steve as he threads the belt through his jeans, tugging his shirt and sweater down to cover it quickly. He smiles at Steve nervously. "You think I look okay?"

Steve looks him over, just to reassure his boyfriend that he's taking it seriously. They're not going anywhere too fancy tonight, Phil and Clint are just having a catch-up dinner for their friends at a restaurant close to the bar, but he knows Bucky's self-conscious about his appearance. He's started growing his hair out again, and Steve thinks it's mostly because he wants something to hide behind.

"You look gorgeous." He promises, kissing Bucky on the cheek as his ears go a little pink. "Want me to put some stuff in your hair?"

"Sure." Bucky nods and lets Steve lead him to the bathroom, blowing out a long, anxious breath as he goes.

"You nervous?" Steve positions him in front of the mirror and grabs some of the gel he'd just finished using. "There's nobody new there tonight. I mean, Jane's coming, but you've met her before."

"I know." Bucky closes his eyes at the sensation of Steve putting his fingers through his hair, the feeling always calms him down. "I just feel like an asshole, kinda. I haven't exactly been talking to people the last couple weeks."

"They understand." Steve murmurs quietly, kind of relieved that Bucky knows he's been antisocial and withdrawn. If he thought his behaviour was normal, that's when Steve would worry. "I didn't tell them about… y'know, him. If that's what you're worried about."

"Thanks." Bucky mumbles, opening his eyes again with a sigh. "I just needed some time to get my head together, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know." Steve kisses him on the cheek and hooks his chin over Bucky's shoulder to meet his eyes in the mirror. Bucky's hair is styled now, tousled and looking better than when it was drooping around his ears in lazy waves. "Done. What d'you think?"

"I think you're a lucky guy to have such a handsome boyfriend." Bucky smirks as Steve goes to wash the gel off his hands. He's just happy to hear a little bit of cockiness back in Bucky's tone, a little bit of confidence that suggests he might be coming out of his funk.

"You shed worse than Lucky, I swear." Steve grimaces as he realises just how much of Bucky's hair has fallen out while he was gelling it, but his boyfriend has already left the bathroom. "Buck? Call a cab?"

"Done it." Bucky calls back, and he's already lacing up his stiff new shoes when Steve comes into the living room.

Steve had finally convinced him that boots weren't appropriate for every occasion, and he'd reluctantly agreed to buy a pair of formal shoes. And by 'agree', he'd let Steve drag him to the store and basically shrugged at every question until Steve picked them out himself. Bucky still grumbles when he has to wear them, and Steve thinks that the fact he's not doing that today is another good sign. Maybe things really are looking up.

The cab ride gives him an equally good vibe, as Bucky holds his hand and sticks his tongue out at the back of the driver's head when he gives them a funny look. He even does a good job when they meet up with their friends in the restaurant bar, hugging Natasha tightly and offering apologies for not being so social for a little while. Natasha gives him a funny look and mutters something in Russian with a raised eyebrow, but Bucky just shrugs and plays it off. Whatever it is.

He sticks close to Steve, keeping an arm around his waist or their elbows touching, always some form of contact. He and Phil even corral Clint and Steve together and persuade them to make up for real, put a proper end to the coolness that's developed between them ever since he tied Bucky to the bar that afternoon. They shake hands and make up right before the group goes to sit down for dinner, and Steve thinks things are definitely looking up tonight. This might be the turning point they've been waiting for.

It seems like he spoke too soon. Things start to go wrong as soon as they sit down for dinner.

Bucky gets jittery as soon as the menus are handed out. He's sitting next to Steve on one side, Thor and Darcy's girlfriend Jane on the other, and Steve figures maybe that's why he's nervous. He doesn't know Jane very well, and he always gets nervous that people are going to know him by reputation before he gets a chance to make a good impression. From the way his bony fingers are digging into Steve's knee under the table as he scans the menu, that's what Steve figures it is.

Things pick up when the food gets there, and by the time they get onto main courses Bucky's too busy talking to Jane to actually eat much. Steve glances over from his conversation with Sam with a grin when Bucky starts laughing at something Jane said, he's so happy to hear that sound after the grey haze of the last few weeks.

Bucky looks animated, his eyes bright as he gestures with his good hand while he talks. This is the Bucky Steve remembers from before Hydra, and it's a sight for sore eyes. Maybe the controlled, small sessions of domination and submission that they've been tentatively trying out have helped more than he realised. Once he's got his feet on the ground, Bucky seems to be holding his own in spite of everything that's happened to him recently.

Then everything goes to shit.

"I need another drink, you want one?" Darcy butts into the conversation from across the table to address Jane. "I swear they didn't put rum in my godamn coke."

"Maybe you need to realise that 50/50 isn't a regular drink ratio." Jane snorts back. Then she notices where Darcy's hand is and laughs. "No wonder you can't taste the booze. That's not your drink, D. You had a short glass, that one's Bucky's."

"No it's not, it's…" Darcy's mouth falls open and the colour drains from Bucky's face at the same time. "Oh. Shit."

The first Steve knows about it is when Bucky's chair squeaks as he shoves it back from the table and bolts for the bathroom. There's a second of stunned silence before Jane follows him, calling after him as she barges into the men's bathroom without a moment's hesitation.

"What the hell happened?" Steve breaks the silence insistently. Things have been going so well tonight, he almost doesn't want to deal with the fact that they're getting messed up again. They were having a nice night out with their friends, a _normal_ night out, and now everything's gone straight to hell.

"Um, I think somebody fucked up." Darcy chews on her lip nervously. "I think it might have been me."


	13. Losing My Religion

"Oh God, I'm so sorry." Jane looks like she's about to cry, standing by the sinks of the too-bright bathroom with her hands over her mouth. She's a medical student, she exists outside of the nightlife/adult entertainment industry of her partners, and this isn't the most successful introduction to it.

"Hey, it's not your fault." Steve pats her on the shoulder awkwardly and grimaces when he hears Bucky retch again from behind one of the cubicle doors. He can see the bottom of his boyfriend's stupid new shoes poking out from under the door where he's clearly dropped to his knees, and Steve wishes he was anywhere but here.

"I moved the glasses when we sat down, I didn't think they'd get mixed up." Jane is still babbling, trying to explain herself. Steve gets why she feels so guilty, but it really isn't her fault. "I should have realised he's… I didn't know he didn't drink because he _couldn't_."

"Jane, it's okay. It's not exactly something you open a conversation with, it's not your fault that you didn't know." Steve tries to reassure her even as he's going into crisis mode. He just wanted to have one normal night with his friends, and now he's putting out fires because of Bucky again. It seems like they never catch a break.

"Is there anything I can do? I mean…" She flaps her hands a little, feeling helpless. Steve knows that feeling all too well.

"Don't worry, alright? Just go back to dinner and tell Natasha I got it?" He's shepherding her out of the bathroom and he wishes he could be a bit more subtle about it, but he doesn't want Bucky to feel any more humiliated than he probably already does. "We'll be there in a little bit."

When the door closes behind her, Steve goes over to Bucky's cubicle and knocks hesitantly on the thin wood. He swallows hard and takes a deep breath to compose himself before he knocks again. This isn't Bucky's fault, he knows that, and he knows it's totally selfish to feel annoyed about it. He can't let it show, because the last thing he wants to do is make Bucky feel worse about something he can't control.

"Buck?" He knocks a third time, starting to get worried. "Are you okay?"

The toilet flushes in response, and Bucky comes out of the cubicle looking flushed and flustered, but surprisingly composed. He meets Steve's eyes sheepishly before he goes over to the sinks and quickly washes his mouth out, splashing cold water on his face and trying to get his breath back before he catches Steve's eye again in the mirror.

"M'so sorry Steve." And now that he knows he's been drinking, Steve can hear the slight marble-mouthed sound of Bucky's voice that gives the game away. His tolerance must be non-existent after being sober for so long. "I didn't do it on purpose."

"I know, babe. It's okay, it was an accident." He doesn't miss the way Bucky shies away from the hand on his back, the way he pulls two different packets of mints from his pocket to shove in his mouth. "Do you wanna go home?"

"Hell no." Bucky shakes his head and finally turns back to his boyfriend when he's finished crunching up mints. "We're having a good time, aren't we?"

"Yeah, but… Buck, you puked. Like, a lot."

"I'm fine, I was just shocked is all. I got kinda overwhelmed for a second there." Bucky smiles, and there's a looseness behind his eyes that Steve hasn't seen for over a year. But he looks happier than he has done for a long time now. "C'mon, we're having fun. I don't wanna go home."

Logically, Steve can tell that Bucky is kind of buzzed, that he might not be making the most rational decisions right now. He knows that the best thing to do is probably go home and get his boyfriend into a safe place before the shock of breaking his sobriety inevitably hits him. But Bucky is right, they are having fun and this is the happiest they've been since before Alexander Pierce fucked up their lives again. Maybe Steve can be selfish for once, and maybe it's not so selfish if it's what they both want.

Being Mr Responsible all the time gets tiring.

"Okay, we can stay." He steps closer and carefully puts his hands on Bucky's hips. Bucky doesn't pull away this time, and that seems to be the best indication that he really is okay. "But you'll tell me if you need to leave, right?"

"Course I will." Bucky twists his head and actually giggles when Steve leans in to kiss him. "I just puked, Rogers. Don't be gross."

"You ate like a million breath mints, I think I can handle it." Steve pecks him on the lips anyway, just to keep that smile on Bucky's face. "Now, you're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, stop worrying about me. I've taken enough coke to kill an elephant before, I think I can handle one shitty rum and coke." This is the Bucky that Steve remembers from way back when he first met him, and to be honest he's kind of missed this guy. "And it _was_ shitty, I didn't even get something decent to fuck up with."

"Just don't get any ideas about taking a second try at it." Steve kisses him on the cheek and pushes him towards the door. "C'mon, Jane'll start hyperventilating if you don't go show her you're fine."

He should have known better, but he gets just as worn down with having to do everything _right_ all the time as Bucky does. Tomorrow can deal with the fallout, he figures, tonight is just… tonight.

They go back to the table and everything seems fine, Bucky apologises and laughs it off, and Steve quietly assures Natasha that everything really is okay. She doesn't seem convinced, not even when Bucky leans over and mutters to her in Russian for a few minutes.

Natasha reaches out and pokes him pointedly in the collarbone with one sharp fingernail, but Steve doesn't know what that's about. The conversation is clearly over after it happens though, and the atmosphere doesn't go sour. Bucky doesn't eat anything else, not that Steve can blame him, and he and Darcy duck outside for a cigarette when dessert comes.

They don't come back for a long time, and the rest of their friends find them sitting in the bar giggling together when the meal is over. They were planning to come through here for a little while anyway, but Steve feels kind of abandoned by his boyfriend tonight. He sits with Sam and Natasha and has a couple of glasses of wine, feeling spitefully happy to have a normal conversation where he can say whatever the hell he likes and doesn't have to worry about hitting any triggers.  

Maybe he should have told his friends about Pierce taking Bucky. Maybe it's not a weight that he can help his boyfriend carry on his own. Maybe it's starting to crush them both.

Steve catches Sam exchanging a pointed glance with Natasha, and he follows his line of sight to where Bucky and Darcy are sitting. There are a lot of glasses on their table, Steve realises, and Bucky's cheeks are flushed pink as he laughs hoarsely at something Darcy said.

He's fucking wasted.

Steve gets to his feet and storms over, ignoring Sam's grab for his arm and calls to stop or go back. Steve feels humiliated, and the loose grin Bucky turns on him when he gets closer doesn't help that feeling at all. He's been trying so hard to take care of his boyfriend and convince everyone that he's doing fine, and then this is how he behaves the second Steve isn't watching his every move.

He's so _embarrassed_.

"We're going home."

"Aw c'mon, it's drunk Bucky. I _love_ drunk Bucky." Darcy protests, tilting her head at Steve the same way she does at old guys for tips. Bucky shorts and covers up his mouth as he tries not to laugh, and Steve realises that they're both fucking drunk.

He doesn't think he could be more livid right now if he tried.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He hisses at his boyfriend, trying not to make a scene. "This isn't drinking a couple sips of rum by accident, Buck."

"I already fucked up and fell off the wagon, I might as well have fun with it. C'mon Stevie, it's just tonight." Bucky shrugs, his eyes wide and faux-innocent exactly the same as Steve remembers from the first time he saw him fuck up being sober, the day their first video got released.

He can still hear the overstretched vowels of _if you didn't want me to drink then why'd you take me to a bar?_ This is all horribly familiar.

"Yeah, chill grandpa." Darcy chastises him, and Bucky bites his lip to keep his giggle in. "He'll be back to being a boring-ass good boy tomorrow."

"Shut the fuck up, Darcy." Steve is at the end of his rope, and he's pretty sure he's had a couple more drinks than he should have because he shuts her down more loudly than he means to. Thor and Jane both look over at them, but he doesn't care about what they think right now.

"Hey, Steve –" But whatever Bucky is about to say is cut off when Steve grabs his wrist and yanks him bodily out of his chair.

"You wanted me in charge? Well I'm in fucking charge, and we're going the fuck home." This is a supremely bad idea, and it's only being intoxicated that's keeping Bucky from panicking as he tries to yank his wrist out of Steve's iron grip.

"Get your fuckin' hands off me!" He tries to pull away again from the bruising fingers, but Steve isn't budging. "Lemme go!"

"Hey." Sam is suddenly behind Steve, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him away. "Steve, let him go."

"He's fucking drunk!" Steve realises his voice is way too loud at the same moment he realises the rest of his friends are staring at them. Natasha's pointed fingernails pry his grip away from Bucky's wrist and Clint moves to make a barrier between them, and Steve suddenly realises that _he's_ the asshole here.

"So are you, man." Sam pulls him back when he stops resisting, and Steve can't take his eyes away from where Bucky's rubbing at his wrist. "Everybody hit it a little too hard tonight, c'mon."

"But he can't be drunk, Sam. He's gonna…" Steve gestures helplessly, and Sam just keeps pulling him further away.

"I know, okay? I know." Sam's voice is quiet, placating, and Steve gets the distinct feeling that he's been here before. "But that's his choice. You can't go holding him down and trying to make him leave when he doesn't want to. It's his choice if he fucks up, you know that."

"This wasn't supposed to happen." That's all Steve can say, watching from afar as Bucky crumples into Natasha's arms and Clint glares after him like he's the devil. "It wasn't supposed to happen."

As he sleeps on Sam's couch that night, Natasha and Bucky nowhere to be found, Steve wonders where the hell everything fell apart. He'd just wanted a quiet, normal fucking night for once.

Maybe that's the problem. Maybe _normal_ just isn't something he can have with Bucky.

Maybe Steve can't handle that.


	14. Same Mistakes

Steve wakes up on Sam's couch with a pounding headache and anger still burning hot in his chest. He takes a shower to try and kill the hangover and the rage, but putting his clothes back on when they smell of Bucky's cigarettes and booze just pisses him off more. By the time Sam gets up and comes across him battling with the coffee pot in the kitchen, he's a ticking time bomb.

"Listen, I'm sorry." Sam jumps straight into it, and it doesn't look like he's slept much either. He's always been of the opinion that getting things out in the open is the best way to resolve problems, even if he's in the wrong.

"I know what happened last night wasn't your fault. I know you're just doing your best by Bucky, we all do, and you were probably right with what you did last night. It's just in the moment, with him yelling and you grabbing him… It was a mistaken identity thing, y'know? I'm sorry."

Steve doesn't immediately respond to the apology, keeping his back turned on his friend and his focus on the coffee pot that's much fancier than his own. But his mother raised him better than that, and he soon sighs and turns to Sam, meeting his eyes without hesitation. Sam can see how mad he is, still, but neither of them stops the conversation.

"Why is everyone so fucking willing to let him self-destruct?" Steve keeps his voice level, tries to keep it low. "Why am I the only one who actually wants him to get better?"

"Steve…"

"No, seriously." Steve stands his ground. "Because now I know what Bucky fucking feels like. Everyone seems to think I'm being irrational and unreasonable but I'm the _only one_ who's trying to help him. I'm the little boy with his finger in the fucking dam and no one will help me!"

"That's not true." Sam protests. "It's just that he's a grown man and you can't make his decisions for him. We've been around too, we've been trying to help."

"He has _literally_ asked me to be in control of him, to an extent." Steve turns away, not banging the cupboard doors as he looks for mugs because this isn't his house and he wasn't raised in a barn. "He can't handle making his own decisions all the time. If any of you had been as _around_ as you say you have, then maybe you'd know that."

Sam doesn't say anything to that. Steve pours him a cup of coffee and sets it on the counter in front of him, because Sam is his best friend no matter how mad he is right now. That's the thing Steve believes that he doesn't think his friends do: if someone is yours, then they're yours to the end of the line. They can fuck up however badly they like, but at the end of the day they're still your brother, your friend, someone you love. That doesn't change, for him.

"We're dealing with this the best we fucking can, and life just keeps shitting all over us." Steve pours himself a cup of coffee and vaguely notices his hands are shaking. Couples really do become alike. "You guys seem to think that he's fine now he's got a job and stuff, but you don't see how bad it gets when he comes home at the end of the day. Then I'm the bad guy because I try and give him what he needs, no matter how it looks."

"Steve, I'm sorry." Sam puts his hand on Steve's wrist to gently help him put the coffee pot down where it's still shaking in his grip. "We haven't helped as much as we could have, and I'm sorry. You're right, on the surface it looked like things were getting better. I guess I should have actually asked you."

Steve shakes his head, looking down at the counter and trying to keep his composure. His anger has faded out to a weird kind of sadness. It's been so long since someone really gave a shit about how he feels, it's almost overwhelming.

"I'm really scared he's never gonna get better." He admits, softly. "Last night one little thing went wrong and it totally knocked him sideways."

"You should read that book I gave you." Sam keeps his hand on Steve's arm, gently squeezing in sympathy. "Him relapsing like that is horrible and it hurts like hell, but it's normal. It's a miracle that he made it a year, working in a _bar_. You've done an amazing job to help him do that."

That's when Steve's face crumples and Sam realises where the pressure point is.

"You didn't fail because he fucked up, Steve." Sam pulls him into a hug, wrapping his arms around his friend's wide shoulders as Steve buries his face in his neck. "I know I keep saying it, but it's not on you. And we didn't help you by behaving like assholes about it, and Darcy is a kid who doesn't understand how bad he gets when he drinks. We didn't mean to make it worse, but we did. We won't do that to you again, okay? We didn't realise how much pressure you're under. I'm sorry."

Steve doesn't say anything, just makes a wounded sound muffled by Sam's shirt. Sam understands what he needs and holds his friend tightly, rubbing his back as he lets out all the emotions he has to keep hidden from his boyfriend. It's a long time until Steve pulls away and scrubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, the sun is fully up and the light streaming through the kitchen window makes everything seem a little brighter.

"Do you want to stay with him?" Sam asks, softly. Steve doesn't respond straight off the bat, he actually makes himself think about it before he says a word.

"Yeah." He nods slowly, trying to picture his life without Bucky and being unable to do it. "It's not the end of the line yet."

"Okay." Sam carefully doesn't pass judgement, even though Steve can tell he thinks it's not the best idea. "Then you need to start getting breaks. You need to have a life outside Bucky, this co-dependent thing isn't healthy. You need to get some time off to be normal, otherwise you're gonna implode."

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but Sam cuts him off.

"And we're gonna help you, alright? No more little boy with his finger in the dam."

Tentatively, Steve smiles.

*

"I'm gonna be staying with Sam for the rest of the week."

Even the hangover doesn't hurt as much as that.

Bucky had woken up on Clint's bathroom floor, Natasha standing over him with cold anger clear in her eyes. He'd had a second of confusion before the freight train of _oh God I fucked up oh shit what did I do_ hit him, and he remembered why he'd stopped drinking in the first place.

After getting chewed out in Russian for twenty minutes, he'd ventured into the kitchen. Clint refused to make him coffee, and somehow that sums up how badly he'd fucked up last night. Bucky had managed to navigate the shitty coffee pot and then retreated into the spare bedroom, trying to remember what he'd done.

He knows he threw up. He knows he was drunk. He knows he upset Steve. So the phone call isn't exactly a surprise. He figures he deserves to get yelled at, not this measured calm he's getting from his boyfriend.

"I'm not doing it because I'm mad, okay? Even though I am seriously pissed." Steve's voice is still calmer than Bucky had expected. "I'm doing it because I need a break or I'm gonna go crazy."

"Okay." Bucky mumbles. Steve sighs on the other end of the line.

"There have gotta be boundaries, Buck. There have to be limits and consequences or I'm just helping you let yourself down, and I'm getting hurt in the process." He pauses before he speaks again. "I'm not gonna be with you unless you're sober and you're complying with all your treatment. That's the bottom line."

Bucky doesn't say anything. He knows what Steve is saying makes sense, but he feels overwhelmed by everything this morning and it's hard to take it all in.

"Bucky? You with me?"

"Yeah." He nods even though Steve can't see him. "I'm listening."

"I'm talking to you seriously, okay? Because everyone seems to either think you're a child or that you're more in control of yourself than you really are. But I know you, and I know you aren't." Steve sounds measured, direct, and Bucky almost feels calmed by the authority in his tone in spite of what he's saying. "This isn't a punishment, alright? But I'm not gonna sit there and watch you blow yourself apart. I can't do it, I just can't."

"Steve…"

"Unless you're sober, don't talk to me." Steve cuts him off like he's afraid he won't get the words out if he doesn't do it quickly. "You have to be accountable, Buck. You can't just hold your hands up and say 'oh well, I already fucked up, I might as well go for gold.' I'm not gonna let you do that."

"I'm sorry." Bucky swipes at the tears that have started leaking down his cheeks, trying to keep it out of his voice because he's not trying to guilt Steve into not saying what needs to be said. "I'll be better, I'll…"

"Buck, I don't need you to prove anything to me. I just need you to realise that you can't go crazy every time something goes wrong. Because shit _will_ go wrong, and you're gonna have to deal with that. I'm not always gonna be there to be the bad guy and jump in to stop you."

"You're not the bad guy." Bucky mumbles, trying to get himself under control so his voice doesn't shake. "I'm so sorry about last night. I was a fuckin' moron, I just… lost it."

"I know. And it was shitty and embarrassing and it sucked. I hate seeing you like that, that's not the guy I fell in love with." Steve sighs. "But that was the choice you made last night. Today you have to pick yourself up and choose to keep going, you can't let everything fall apart because of one bad day."

"I won't." Bucky lets out a shaky breath as he tries to compose himself. "You should leave me, y'know. Everyone's thinking it."

"I know." Steve rubs a hand over his face on the other end of the line and hates this whole conversation. "But I'm not gonna leave you, because I made you a promise and I'm gonna keep it. I need you to keep your promises too, or this time off is gonna be permanent."

"I will. I'll start over and do everything I'm supposed to." Bucky can't help the tremor in his voice, but he means what he says. He's saved himself once, he can do it again. "I love you."

"I love you too." Steve closes his eyes and tries not to feel guilty about something they both need. "I'll see you on Monday, okay?"

"Okay." The week stretches ahead of him like a void, and Bucky finally starts to understand what it would mean to not have Steve in his life. He needs to do better, he has to. "Take care of yourself, please?"

"I've got Sam watching me like a hawk, I think I'll be okay." Steve twitches a tiny smile. "Are you gonna stay with Clint and Phil?"

"No." Bucky blows out a breath, steadying himself. "I think I need to do this on my own. I gotta prove to myself I can handle it."

"I'm proud of you." Steve tells him, sincerely. "Just remember it's okay to ask for help if you need it."

"I will." Bucky promises, and he has to mumble a goodbye and hang up quickly before he gets emotional all over again.

He'll do better, be better, be the best he can. When he's on his own and there's no one to trip him up, he can really get back in control of himself and get back on track. He can do that for Steve, he _has_ to do it if he doesn't want to lose him.

One bad night won't end him. He's come too far for that now, _they've_ come too far for that.


	15. Give it All

The first night alone is actually the easiest.

Bucky's too hungover to be interested in drinking, except for the knowledge that having a few shots of vodka in his orange juice would kill his headache and sick feeling dead in their tracks. He pads around the apartment in Steve's sweatpants, practicing the stupid mindfulness techniques Dr Erskine had taught him and trying to stay present in his body. The urge to dissociate is strong when he feels uncomfortable, but he does his best to push it down.

He sleeps, not well but a lot. Then at four a.m. nightmares wake him up and he can't get back to sleep. Bucky can feel phantom hands on him, creeping under his clothes when he's half asleep, running over flesh that isn't there anymore. He can feel breath on his neck and he can't stay lying down any longer, he feels too vulnerable with no one there to hide him.

He cleans the kitchen to keep his hands busy, throws out any food that's expired or looks too tempting. It feels good to look at it all and resist putting any of it in his mouth. It makes him feel stronger, looking at temptation and denying himself. It makes him feel like he can do this sober thing all over again and not let Steve down. He can handle this.

He goes to work at the bar that afternoon, because he's supposed to honour his commitments and he will. Clint pulls him into a hug when he gets there, murmuring an apology for being so pissed the day before. Natasha texts him a smiley face and a _good luck_ before his shift starts, so he figures she can't be mad anymore either. He knows he's got a lot of work to do, but maybe he's on his way to being forgiven.

Before they open up, Bucky takes a sharpie and draws a thick black X on the back of his good hand. On the other, in the fleshy space between his forefinger and thumb, he inks a 1. He won't be able to do anything today without seeing the reminders to behave _just like Sasha used to do to correct his behaviour_. It'll help, he knows it will. Back to square one.  

Instead of being overwhelmed by the light-headedness that builds up as his shift goes on, he works with it. It actually feels good, he feels a little high every time he ducks down to get a glass and comes up to a head rush. Thor keeps singing in his booming way as he works, something that sounds suspiciously like AC/DC in Norwegian, and the sound helps keep Bucky focused through the noise of the bar and the cramping of his empty stomach.

Steve turns up for his shift on the door later that night, and Bucky doesn't do more than wave at him while he's working. Tonight they're just co-workers, as far as he's concerned. Steve needs a break and Bucky will give him one, and he'll leave it totally up to his boyfriend to decide when he wants to come back and fill that role again. Bucky will prove he's worth it, he'll be better.

On his break he smokes a cigarette and bolts down the sandwich Phil offers him because he's so hungry it hurts. He goes into the bathroom and makes himself throw up before he goes back to work, feeling better for being empty. He'd given in to hunger and now he's back in control, and it makes him feel strong enough to smile at customers and even flirt a little for tips.

He's putting his best face on, going through the old motions that he used to use when he worked in porn to seem attractive to the highest number of people. He thinks it's working tonight, he's starting to feel like he's attractive again and he digs his fingers into his newly-bony hip to reassure himself that he's not under threat. He can use his looks for his own ends, not be victimised by them.

He works in a bit of a trance, lost in his thoughts. He's not disconnecting, not this time, but he's not totally in the present moment. He's jolted out of his autopilot by a familiar voice.

"What's a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?"

Bucky turns back from his most recent customer to see Steve smiling at him from across the bar. The grin that splits his face in two is unbidden, automatic. Even if he's worried about his boyfriend being mad at him he's always happy to see Steve, whatever the circumstances.

"I'm pretty sure you've used that cheesy shit on me before." He smiles nervously, not moving to kiss Steve like he usually would, because he's not sure they're there yet. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good. Only had to kick out one guy who couldn't keep his hands to himself." Bucky catches Steve's eyes drop to the X on his hand, and he swears his smile gets a little less tentative. "How about you?"

"I'm okay, it's been a long day." Bucky admits, holding up the second can of the energy drink he's been mainlining for the last half-hour with a tired smile. "I'm only on for another half-hour and then I'm heading home before closing."

"Make sure you get some dinner before you crash, I know you forget." Steve's still worrying about Bucky even though he's not there, and Bucky really, really wants to hug him right now.

"I will. Stop worrying, everything's fine." He gives into the urge to go up on his toes and lean over the bar to peck Steve on the cheek. "Have fun with Sam, okay? Relax."

"I'm trying." Steve looks happy about the kiss, so Bucky figures he can't have fucked up this time. "How're you doing with... everything?"

"Okay." Bucky nods, ignoring the way his vision swims slightly when he does it. "I've had some nightmares and stuff, but nothing too bad. Haven't gone all space-cadet or anything." He leaves off the _yet_ that he wants to add to that statement, because he doesn't want to make Steve worry.

"That's awesome." Steve looks even happier to hear that Bucky's doing okay, and it makes Bucky determined to be as good as he can be. "I'm gonna come back on Monday, remember the social worker's coming next week."

"Yeah, I remember." Bucky lies, because he'd totally forgotten. His memory isn't awesome since Pierce took him again, he's having more of the lapses in concentration than usual, but he just nods and doesn't mention it. "I'll clean the place."

"I'll believe that when I see it. Just write it on the fridge in case you forget." Steve's affectionate teasing is cut off by a crash from the back of the bar as one guy manages to knock a table over in his haste to get his fists on another. "Gotta go, love you."

"You too." Bucky calls after Steve as he watches him go charging into the middle of trouble, as usual, and actually feels a little better. Steve's okay, he's okay, they can handle this.

Clint tosses a handful of napkins at his head to make him pay attention to his work, and Bucky doesn't know the ASL for _blow me_ but he's pretty sure his gesture gets his point across.

It's not as if last night never happened, he can't pretend that it didn't, but things are okay today and he knows he's got a problem with trying to pretend that the past never existed. Maybe this is a good example of how shit can go wrong and he can absorb it and get past it. Maybe Dr Erskine is right after all, that's how he's going to try and frame it to himself.

It's pouring with rain by the time Bucky clocks off shift and heads home. He makes it back to the apartment and as far as the bedroom before he starts shivering and can't stop. His muscles are cramping like hell, and he shuffles to the kitchen to find something to make it stop. He thinks about the last time he felt like this, way back when he was working for Hydra and he'd been misbehaving, when they'd punished him without even touching him.

He chooses food over painkillers because he doesn't trust himself with pills, and the sugar in the fruit he chokes down hits him quickly. He sits on the couch trying to breathe and not throw up as his vision clears and his body stops shaking, resisting the urge to grab his cell phone and call Steve. This is exactly why his boyfriend needs a break, and Bucky has to prove that he can make it more than one day on his own. He doesn't need help, he can do this by himself.

Bucky makes it to bed and passes out in his clothes on top of the covers. He made it through tonight, he can make it through the rest of the week on his own. He'll prove he can handle it.

He'll make Steve proud, one way or another.


	16. Survivor

Dr Erskine looks like he's at the end of his tether. He's taken off his wire-rimmed glasses to clean them three times already during this appointment, and Bucky knows that tell. He's getting frustrated, not that Bucky can blame him.

"James, I'm very concerned about your relationship."

It's the first thing that snaps Bucky out of the haze he's been in for the entire session. He just can't get his head together, the fog is too thick today. He spent the night waking up every hour from razor sharp, insidious nightmares, and when he couldn't stay in bed any longer he'd had to sit down in the shower to keep from fainting when the hot water made his head spin.

It's a bad day, and this question might have just pushed it over into a terrible one.

"My relationship? With Steve?" He blinks at the doctor questioningly. "But that's the only good thing in my life."

"That belief is what concerns me, because it's not true." Erskine underlines something on the pad of paper that always seems to be filled with notes by the time he finishes a session with Bucky. A catalogue of failure. "You've made huge progress since you started seeing me, but you don't seem to recognise that as an achievement."

Bucky just shrugs, fiddling with his hands uselessly for a moment before he gives in and reaches into his bag, fishing out the stuffed toy dog he's started bringing to his therapy sessions. He draws his knees up to his chest and hugs his arms around them and the dog together. Erskine just watches him close himself off like he's been expecting it.

"Is this upsetting you?" He asks, with the tone of voice that tells Bucky he's not going to stop even if it is. "Which part? Letting you know that you've done something good, or questioning your relationship?"

Bucky shrugs again, chewing on his lip as he runs his fingers over the ridge of his bony knee. It comforts him, having something to hold onto that reminds him he is in control. Erskine watches the movement and makes another note on his pad. Bucky can picture the words now, _self-comfort in response to anxiety_. He feels like a lab rat, sometimes.

 "Let me tell you what I think." Erskine presses on, when Bucky doesn't respond. "I'm worried that you've dealt with your feelings about Sasha by transferring them onto Steven, to an extent."

"That's bullshit." Bucky can't help blurting the words out, and he immediately regrets it. But the doctor doesn't get angry, and he has to remind himself that he's safe here, that Erskine's never done anything to hurt him.

"The reason I think this –" Erskine explains, not fazed by Bucky's outburst "- is because of the way you react to his disapproval. You relapsed with your drinking and Steve took a break from living with you, and despite the fact that you know he's coming back you feel as if you have to go above and beyond to be worthy of him staying."

"That's not... That's not true."

"James, you've used the words 'prove' and 'better' more than any others today." The doctor points out, gently. "You're acting the same way as you did with Sasha, when you were held to impossible standards and every time you met them the goal posts were moved. So you feel like the only solution is to be perfect at all times."

"But I'm not perfect." Bucky lets out a humourless laugh and realises he's squeezing the stuffed dog so hard his knuckles are white. "I'm the furthest away from perfect I could possibly get."

"So is Steven. So am I. It's human to be imperfect, James. Everyone is." It surprises Bucky that the doctor isn't laughing at him, telling him he's ridiculous for not understanding that. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to improve yourself, but I'm worried about the obsessive nature of it. I'm worried about the fact that you're putting yourself through all this anxiety because you think that's what Steve wants. You don't ask him, you try to anticipate what he wants from you. That's exactly what you did with Sasha to try and minimise the punishment you'd face if you did something wrong."

Bucky can feel his legs start to tremble, and he's just glad he's sitting down or he'd fall down again. He's not sure if it's from the lack of food or from what he's being told, but he suspects it's the latter. He's never looked at his behaviour like that before.

"I-I need him." Bucky mumbles, trying to get his wired thoughts in order. It feels totally against his worldview to think of Steve and Sasha in the same way, he can't get his head around it. "Doc, you don't understand. If it wasn't for Steve I'd be locked up in some nuthouse somewhere, I can't be on my own. I need him to look after me."

"I want you to listen carefully to what I'm going to explain, James." Erskine fixes him with that familiar pointed stare, and Bucky shrinks back slightly. He feels like he's fucked up again, like he's said the wrong thing and revealed how useless he really is.

Dr Erskine steeples his fingers and considers his words for a moment before he begins his explanation. He wants to be sure that Bucky understands what he's saying and doesn't take it the wrong way.

"There is such a thing as learned helplessness. This occurs when you're told over and over that you can't do something, that can't take care of yourself or navigate the world on your own, and you're told this so frequently that you start to believe it. And this becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, because you then become so anxious about handling things on your own that it paralyses you. You think you cannot possibly survive on your own, because every time you try, you fail."

Bucky swallows hard against the sick feeling in his throat. It's hard to take when your entire concept of the world is rocked like this.

"You've been on your own for a week, and you believe that you can't handle that. You've told me repeatedly today how you've failed. But look at the facts, James. You _have_ handled it. Yes, it's been difficult, and yes it's been unpleasant at times, but you _have_ handled it on your own."

"I-I've had nightmares though. And panic attacks, and..."

"And those are all things that would have happened if Steven had been there." Dr Erskine smiles encouragingly, taking in the way Bucky looks at him like he's speaking Klingon. "Look at it this way, substance abuse and hurting yourself are coping mechanisms, you developed them because you had to. And you survived this week without either of them, so logically you must be coping. And Steven is someone that you _choose_ to have in your life, not something you need in order to survive."

"I don't feel like I'm coping." Bucky's admission is quiet, hesitant, but Erskine doesn't shut him down.

"I'll tell you the truth, James. Some of the time I don't feel like I'm coping either." He's not making any notes, and Bucky feels like he's really talking to him for the first time. "Things happen unexpectedly in my life and I feel overwhelmed, like I can't possibly handle everything I have to deal with. But I know that I have handled it before, and I will feel like I can handle it again. That knowledge comes with time, and one day you'll feel like you can cope too. I promise you that, James."

"Bucky." He cuts him off, his hands starting to shake. "Call me Bucky, I hate James."

"Why didn't you tell me this before, Bucky?" Erskine doesn't look put out, though. He almost looks pleased.

"I... I didn't want to piss you off."

"But now it's okay to piss me off?" His voice is light, making sure that Bucky doesn't think he's in trouble over it.

"Yeah. I mean... You're not gonna do anything bad to me." Bucky shrugs, fiddling with the ears of his stuffed dog nervously. "You think I can handle stuff, you don't treat me like glass like everyone else."

"I know you can handle stuff." Erskine smiles. "So you feel safe with me? You feel like it's okay to tell me how you really feel?"

Bucky nods.

"That's good. I'm very happy that you trust me like this, thank you."

Erskine flips to a new page on his pad, and Bucky feels a warm surge in his chest. He really can tell someone how he feels and nothing bad happens, Erskine doesn't hate him and he's not in trouble. He's starting to think Erskine is right, that maybe he can handle things more than he believes he can.

"Now, I'm going to remind you that I trust you too. When you tell me things in here I believe you." Bucky nods quickly to show he's understood. "Okay. So do you think we could try talking about something difficult, now that we know we trust each other and we know you can handle difficult things?"

It takes him a little longer this time, but Bucky nods again.

"Can you tell me what happened when you went missing?"

There's a long silence, and then something in Bucky just falls away. He uncurls from where he's been sitting hunched in on himself, and he puts his feet back on the ground to sit up straight as he faces the doctor.

"You promise you'll believe me?" He asks, tentatively. "And... And even if I did something stupid, you won't get mad?"

Erskine nods patiently, and Bucky lets out a shaky breath.

"I... I'd just left your office, and I ran into Brock... I think he was waiting for me..."


	17. Patience

"Bucky, wha—"

"Shut up and kiss me." Bucky has Steve shoved up against the door the second he's closed it.

It's midday on a Monday and they should probably both be in work right now, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care that his hips are probably sharp as they press into his boyfriend's, he doesn't give a shit if he gets questioned about it after this.

He wants this, so he's going to do it. He's tired of being afraid of making the wrong decision, so he's going to go with his gut. And if Steve punishes him, then he'll only be confirming what Bucky's anticipating anyway, so it can't be that bad. And the doctor promised that Steve didn't want to punish him, so Bucky figures he'll try.

And fuck it, he wants to get his damn boyfriend off. Why shouldn't he?

"But..." Steve is blindsided by the sudden heat of his boyfriend pressed against him. Bucky's had problems just being touched lately, he'd never expected to come back to this. "You sure?"

"I fuckin' missed you." Bucky looks up at him with such honesty shining from his eyes that Steve couldn't resist kissing him if he tried. Bucky lets out a whimper of relief when their lips finally touch, and Steve wraps his arms tight around him.

It's been so long since they were like this that Bucky feels smaller in his arms, but Steve's sure he's just imagining that. He's warm and insistent and making noises that drive Steve crazy, that's all more pressing than the size of him.

Bucky's working on his belt before Steve realises it and he breaks away, panting for breath. He tries to push Bucky's hands away, but his boyfriend is adamant and moves onto his fly before Steve can stop him. It wouldn't be the first time Bucky's reverted back to his programming and tried to 'thank' Steve for something, that's what he's concerned about.

"Buck, wait." His hesitance only makes Bucky make a frustrated noise in his throat. "You don't have to do this."

"I know. I want to." Bucky nips at his neck and Steve lets out a surprised huff of breath. "I wanna suck your dick, deal with it."

Steve laughs at the bratty tone of Bucky's voice, because he's missed this. It seems like there's been a change in his boyfriend since he went away, and he can't put his finger on what it is. The confidence and spark in his eyes must have come from somewhere.

"You sure know how to sweet-talk a guy." Steve relents, and Bucky's expression turns into a smirk as he sinks to his knees.

He's got that familiar fluidity to his movements, and at times like this the memory of how they met hits Steve like a sledgehammer. With all the shit Bucky's been through, how messed up he's been, it's sometimes easy to forget that not only does he love sex, but he's really fucking good at it. Steve knows he treats Bucky with kid gloves sometimes when he doesn't have to, and when he's like this it's hard to remember why.

Steve's careful not to tug on Bucky's hair as he gets his pants open and swallows him down in one long, slick slide. They've learned that's a trigger, holding him in place by his hair, and Steve is careful to keep his touches gentle and petting even as he gets his brain sucked out through his dick. He doesn't even try to stop the hoarse moans that spill from his lips, and he could swear he feels Bucky laugh around him if the vibrations didn't drive any coherent thought from his mind.

It's almost an embarrassingly short amount of time before Steve is grunting a warning as his hips stutter. Bucky swallows everything down when his boyfriend comes, and Steve goes boneless against the door while Bucky tucks him back into his pants with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Welcome home." Bucky purrs, and Steve lets out a breathless laugh as he tugs him back into his arms.

"Some kinda welcome." He murmurs, kissing Bucky with a contented sigh. He slides his hand down to Bucky's jeans, ready to show him just how happy he is to be home, but stops. Bucky's not hard.

"Not today." Bucky mumbles, his cheeks pinking up slightly as Steve moves his hand back to his waist. Sometimes his body doesn't want to cooperate because his mind won't let it, sometimes it can't because of the meds (and the lack of food isn't helping, although Steve doesn't know that).

"Hey, that's okay." Steve kisses his flushed cheeks as he gets his breath back and Bucky feels a little better. "I really missed you."

"You too." Bucky hums and tucks his head into the crook of Steve's neck, feeling like there isn't a piece missing from him anymore. "How was Sam's?"

"It was okay, I needed the time out. Him and Nat have really loud sex though. Like, a lot." Bucky snorts at Steve's grossed-out expression and pulls away from his boyfriend, grabbing his rucksack to put it in the bedroom for him. "And Clint and Natasha have this twin thing going on, I don't think they even speak to each other half the time."

"They just do the weird half-word thing, right? I'll teach you, it's just like a made-up language." Bucky grins and comes back into the living room as Steve flops onto the couch.

"It'd be fine except Clint just appears from nowhere like a fuckin' shadow. You leave the room for five minutes and boom, there's a sniper eating your cereal. I don't think he uses the door to get into their house." Steve watches Bucky setting up the coffee pot and frowns to himself.

His boyfriend really does look smaller. The sweater he's stolen from Steve's closet is hanging off him, rather than just usually baggy, and it looks like his jeans are a couple of sizes too big. Steve squints at Bucky's bony wrist poking out from his sleeve when he grabs mugs from a high cabinet, and wonders.

"Hey, did you forget to eat while I was gone?" He asks the question lightly, but Bucky still tenses like he's hit a nerve. Okay, there's something there.

"You got me." He turns around with a sheepish smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. "I just kinda realised this morning. I can't remember if I've eaten or not, so I think I have, y'know?"

That's a problem Bucky has sometimes, forgetting whether or not he's carried out routine tasks because his brain isn't engaged while he does them. Once he took three showers in a row because he kept forgetting he'd had one, but that's the worst Steve's ever seen it. Usually he wouldn't forget to eat for the better part of a week.

"Maybe you should start using the list again?" Steve suggests, getting up to raid the fridge. Bucky grimaces at the prospect of carrying around a checklist of daily tasks again, but he can't protest too much because it does help.

"Yeah, maybe." He mumbles noncommittally, waiting for the coffee to brew and keeping his expression carefully neutral.

Steve looks over the contents of the refrigerator with concern building in his chest. There are plenty of energy drinks and fruit juice, but apart from that it looks like Bucky hasn't been grocery shopping since he left. He closes the fridge and moves to stand behind his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around his waist which has definitely gone from slim to skinny (in just a week? Really?).

Steve's not quite sure what he's looking at yet, but it doesn't feel good.

"Well, how about I make us dinner tonight?" He kisses Bucky's neck right where he knows he's ticklish, and Bucky giggles in spite of the anxiety that suddenly flares in his chest. "We can have a welcome home night in, dinner and a movie? Stop you wasting away."

"Sounds awesome." Bucky grins, staying in Steve's embrace as he pours them coffee.

Steve's happy to be home and Bucky's happy to have him home, he can figure the rest out later. Dr Erskine convinced him he can handle things, and dinner is just another thing he'll have to handle.

It's afterwards that he's worried about.

*

In hindsight, Steve really should have looked up _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_ before he suggested they watch it after dinner. He'd just heard it was good, he hadn't counted on the rape scene that had Bucky bolting for the bathroom like he'd seen a ghost.

"Buck, I'm so sorry." He's been knocking on the door for ten minutes while Bucky retches on the other side, and this is starting to feel horribly familiar. "C'mon babe, open the door."

It's another few minutes before he hears the lock click, and Steve hesitantly pushes the door open to see Bucky brushing his teeth mechanically. His eyes are red and blank, and he isn't looking at himself in the mirror. It's worrying, but at least it's no different to how he usually looks when he gets triggered.

"Bucky?" Steve only takes a single step closer, not wanting to make him feel trapped in the small room. "I turned the movie off, it's gone."

"Why? I wanted to finish it." Bucky's eyes are surprisingly clear when he looks up, and Steve is slightly taken aback.

This has never happened before. Usually when something triggers Bucky that's it, he'll never want to look at it again. Steve can't even remember how many DVDs and magazines are hidden in the back of his closet because Bucky can't look at them without remembering what triggered him. Wanting to go back to watching a movie that freaked him out is totally new, and Steve feels a little flicker of hope in his chest.

"Really?"

"I... You might have to fast forward through the... bad bit." Bucky twitches a hesitant smile before he grabs a hand towel and wipes it over his flushed face. "But... Yeah, I wanna finish it. I thought it was a good movie before the whole... the thing. I can handle it."

"We can do that, I'll skip the bad bit." Steve comes closer gingerly and puts his hands on Bucky's waist. His movements are all slow and carefully telegraphed, because often Bucky doesn't want to be touched after something like this, but today he leans into the touch. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that was in it."

"S'okay, it's not your fault." His voice is hoarse from his raw throat, but it's not shaking. "I'm sorry I puked."

"Hey, shut up. You've got nothing to be sorry for." Steve shakes his head. Then a thought strikes him and his voice softens slightly. "Is... Have you been getting triggered a lot? Is that why you've lost so much weight? You keep throwing up?"

Well, it's not _technically_ a lie.

"Yeah." Bucky mumbles, trying to look sheepish. "The nightmares have been kinda bad since I relapsed and... y'know how it goes. But I'm handling it, it's getting better."

"You sure?" Steve takes Bucky's hand and leads him back to the couch, tugging him into his lap. Bucky goes willingly now that he's not going to get in trouble for his weight loss, now that he has a plausible excuse.

"I'm sure." He curls into Steve's chest with a sigh, a smile spreading over his face in spite of everything. "It's getting better, promise."

"I'm so proud of you, y'know that?" Steve nuzzles Bucky's hair and presses a kiss to his temple. "You're amazing, I dunno what you've been doing this week but it's working."

"I've been seeing the doc every day." Bucky admits softly. He's glad he's not looking Steve in the face, because he's thinking about doing what Dr Erskine has been urging him to do for a long time now: be honest.

"Yeah?" Steve kisses his hair again with a little smile tugging at his lips. "Well it's working, you're doing great."

"Yeah... He helped me get some stuff off my chest." He's not quite sure how to approach the topic, so he figures he'll just have to jump in and freefall. "I told him about what happened when I went missing."

Steve goes very still underneath him, like he doesn't dare to breathe in case he spooks his boyfriend into silence.

"And I'm gonna tell you about it now." Bucky swallows hard, his throat stinging enough to keep him grounded. "And you gotta promise you're not gonna yell or get mad or stop me until I'm done."

"I promise." Steve says straight away, no hesitation. Bucky takes his hand with his bad one, trying hard to convince himself that it's Steve's hand that's shaking, not his.

"It was my fault. I should have known not to go get coffee with him. But he said he was sober and I was so frustrated from no one getting it, and.... So I went. And then..."


	18. Fighter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE HEED THE UPDATED TAGS.

_"Let's get you cleaned up, sweetheart. You made an awful mess."_

_Pierce's voice is gentle, like he's talking to a confused child. And that's how Bucky feels when he sits up with his head spinning. He sees his wet jeans and it takes him a moment to connect the dots. Then his face crumples and he lets out an involuntary, humiliated sob._

_He wants Steve._

_"It's okay, it was an accident." Pierce doesn't sound like he's genuinely sympathetic, he actually sounds a little pleased underneath the sugariness of his voice. "I didn't tell Brock to give you those nasty pills. We'll fix it."_

_Bucky knows he should fight, knows he should pull away from Pierce and run, but he's sitting in a strange bed with pissed jeans and no idea if he's going to even be able to stand up on his own. And he's just so ashamed of losing control of himself. He's so shaken up that he clings to Pierce when he helps him to the bathroom, so confused that he doesn't want to untangle his fingers from the man's shirt when he tries to pull away._

_Pierce is a threat, but he's familiar in the haze that Bucky's mind has descended into._

_"I'm not going anywhere. I'm just going to start your bath." Pierce pulls away enough to start the water and then comes back to Bucky with a smug smile on his face. "I'm here to take care of you now, it's okay Jakov."_

_"B-Bucky." He finds some spark within himself, beyond the cloud of chemicals and humiliation, and meets Pierce's eyes defiantly. He might not be able to stand on his own, but he's not broken. "My name is Bucky."_

_The back of Pierce's hand is bright and shocking with the pain it explodes across his cheek. He doesn't stop with one. By the time he's finished Bucky's lip is bleeding, his nose is bleeding, and his left eye is starting to swell closed._

_"What is your name?"_

_Pierce's voice is like velvet hiding a razorblade._

_"Jakov." Bucky slurs after a few ragged breaths. Pierce smiles._

_Nobody is coming to save him, this is self-preservation._

*

"Do you want Arrow?"

Bucky had forgotten that he'd named the dog.

"Y-Yeah."

Steve moves him gently off his lap and onto the couch cushions, puts him next to the arm where he knows Bucky feels secure. He hurries and grabs the dog from the bedroom, handing it to his boyfriend before he sits beside him again. He pushes in close to him, so there's the pressure of the couch on one side and Steve on the other, and Bucky hangs on tight to the toy and takes a breath.

"Take your time." Steve murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to Bucky's clothed shoulder because he's not sure if he can handle skin to skin contact. His voice is quiet and calm, and Bucky wonders faintly who talked to him about getting his reactions under control. "Nobody's mad, Buck. You're doing real good."

*

_Pierce makes him come._

_He cuffs him to the wall and strokes his dick, and Bucky doesn't want it. He doesn't. He tries to struggle away, tries to stop his hips moving under the influence of whatever aphrodisiac Pierce has pumped into his veins. He closes his eyes and tries to disappear. He doesn't want it._

_This isn't sex. This is power, this is force._

_His body betrays him and he comes, dripping onto the floor as he starts to cry. Pierce tuts and unfastens the cuffs, lets Bucky sink to his knees with tears rolling down his cheeks._

_"Such a bad boy, you couldn't even control yourself." Pierce shakes his head and Bucky can feel his cheeks heating up with shame and trembling anger. "What did we say about you making messes?"_

_"I-I-"_

_"Clean it up." There's a hand in his hair shoving his face to the floor, into his own mess like a dog. Pierce doesn't let him up until there's nothing left._

_Bucky never wants to swallow anything ever again._

*

"I made a mess." Bucky mumbles faintly, lost in his head. Steve kisses his shoulder again, firmer this time to try and draw him out of it.

"It wasn't your fault." He reassures him, because he knows there's no point in trying to convince Bucky that he didn't do anything. He's so angry he wants to find Alexander Pierce and murder him where he stands, but this isn't about him. "It was them, not you."

Bucky swallows emptily, his throat working hard on nothing, but he nods.

*

_"What do you say?"_

_"Please, Daddy."_

_The word is just another level of humiliation, another tool to break him down. It's not the first time they've used it. Bucky's starting to think that Pierce is getting sloppy with his techniques, because he remembers this in spite of the chemicals Brock delivers twice a day that go straight into his veins._

_"I'm sorry, pumpkin." Pierce's smile is broken glass as he eats the last bite of his cupcake. Pink frosting that he'd put on a plate in front of Bucky to prove that he wouldn't eat without permission."You know I shouldn't have to tell you to ask nicely."_

_"B-But Daddy..." His knees ache and his back aches and his stomach hurts and there's nothing he can do to make it stop. He knows if Pierce says the word then everything will feel okay again, but he doesn't._

_"No food today. Not when you're being such a rude boy." And he's so happy about it, that's what stops Bucky from sinking fully into the shame spiral that Pierce wants him in._

_Steve wouldn't be happy about his empty stomach._

_Pierce is not his master._

*

Bucky can feel Steve shaking with rage beside him, and he takes the unprecedented step of reaching out to hold his boyfriend's hand.

"There's still a lot more, if you need a break."

His voice sounds quieter, oddly flat to his own ears, and Steve just squeezes his hand tight and shakes his head. Bucky chews on his lip for a minute before he makes a decision and clumsily deposits the stuffed dog in Steve's lap.

Steve looks up at him with wet eyes, uncomprehending.

"He's good when things are hard to hear."

"But, Buck..." Steve looks like he can't believe what he's been given, but his fingers are already twitching towards the dog's fur and Bucky just shakes his head.

"I already know what happens, I'm safe." He mumbles, trying to explain himself. "He'll help you feel safe too."

"But what if you don't feel safe anymore?" Steve is still hesitant to accept this, and Bucky can't quite smile to reassure him. What he can do is take Steve's free hand and place it on the dog's back.

"Of course I feel safe." He says plainly, as if it's obvious. "You're here."

*

_On the second day, Bucky brings the hairbrush into the living room while Pierce is sitting on the couch. This is a gesture of submission, something to try and head off the violence and the bad feeling that Pierce touching him causes. If he gives him what he wants without being asked, maybe he'll be kind again._

_Bucky shuffles his feet like a nervous child for a moment as Pierce just watches him, not saying anything. This used to be a ritual between them, a confirmation of loyalty and the promise of gentle treatment if he behaved. Bucky bites the bullet and holds the brush out, offering it to Pierce._

_Who, of course, isn't going to let him have it that easy._

_"Are you going to brush your hair?"_

_Bucky hesitates, then something automatic inside him makes him shake his head. He'd only fuck it up if he tried, with his stupid messed-up arm. His stupid messed-up head. He can't be trusted on his own, he knows that._

_"I can't do it by myself." And the glint in Pierce's eye is enough to make him feel like he's almost been praised. He hates the warmth in his chest at that. "I need help."_

_"Do you want me to help you?" Bucky nods and Pierce just watches him. "Ask nicely."_

_"Please, Sasha." Bucky ducks his head, hating himself._

_"There's my sweet boy." Bucky can't help the traitorous smile that spreads over his face when Pierce sounds so proud of him. He even puts a cushion on the floor between his feet for Bucky to sit on after he takes the hairbrush. "Come on, sweetheart. I'll help you."_

_Bucky goes willingly. He doesn't say no._

_He's a good boy._

*

"Th-There was this thing... when I was really bad. It was for training with Hydra, it never made it into the videos."

Steve looks like he feels sick, and that makes Bucky pause.

"It's okay if you gotta puke." And Steve fucking hates it, because Bucky has got quieter and quieter and he even _sounds_ like a little boy now. "It makes you feel better sometimes if you get it out."

"I'm okay." Steve takes a deep breath through his nose and lets it out slowly, and Bucky can tell he's nauseous but he's dealing with it. "Keep talking, it's okay."

Bucky looks at him worriedly for a minute before he continues, his voice finally losing some of its flatness and starting to tremble.

"There was this thing... the chair."

The bottom drops out of Steve's stomach. He remembers Bucky scared in his bathroom when he first ran away from Pierce, Natasha looking shaken up when she came out of the bathroom after spending hours murmuring reassuring words in Russian to a man who barely remembered who he was. He remembers what she said.

_He remembers the chair._

"It... It has... They tie your legs and your arms, and your head if they're not using it. A-And then there's electricity if you're bad a-and they can make it move so there's space for them to fuck you..."

Steve is trying really, really hard not to puke.

"Did... Did he...?"

"No." The tremor leaves Bucky's voice, and Steve is so shocked by the tiny, grim smile on his lips that he forgets to feel sick. "He tried to."

He lowers his voice again, like it's a secret, and Steve remembers the same look on his face when he'd been leading a limping Bucky out of the police station.

"I hit him."

*

_Bucky has refused the muzzle._

_He bites Pierce's hand when he tries to put it on, a reflexive final defence that makes the man drop the torture device in surprise. Bucky lashes out and tries to get away, but Pierce just grabs him by the hair and yanks until Bucky's back on his knees. He's caught between a panic attack and dissociating altogether, and he fights hard to stay in the present._

_"I didn't want to have to do this, Jakov. But you're being such a bad boy." Pierce tugs him across the room, to the spare bedroom where Bucky has never been allowed to go. He opens the door and Bucky almost checks out right there._

_The dim sight of cracked leather and smell of old sweat tells him what's there before Pierce even clicks on the light. Bucky breaks out in cold sweat the second the smell of old come and fear hits him, sense memory telling him to run._

_The chair._

_He lets out a frightened whine and tries to pull away again, but the fear has made his muscles sluggish and Pierce shoves him into the room with little trouble._

_"You signed a contract, you agreed to this. Now, I was kind and I gave you time to readjust before we started filming again, but all you've done is throw that kindness back in my face."_

_"I'm sorry." The apology is automatic, the sound of a scared child trying to avoid a beating. Pierce bends down to almost his level, a mockery of a disappointed parental figure._

_"Are you sorry?" His eyes are nothing but chips of ice, and Bucky cowers away from him instinctively. "I'll make you sorry. I've invested time and money in you, you ungrateful little bitch, and this is how you repay me. I don't like my possessions to break, Jakov."_

_Something about the words flips a switch in Bucky's head. Memories of sitting on Clint and Phil's overstuffed couch. Steve looking at him with barely-concealed concern. Worry. Love._

Nobody owns you but you.

_The adrenaline is like a cold fizz cascading down his spine, and Bucky's eyes suddenly flick up to meet Pierce's dead on. The man realises that something is wrong a second too late, a second too late to duck the sucker punch that cracks into his nose with the metal arm brace hard like a knuckle duster._

_He reels back with a shout, but Bucky is on him in an instant. He switches to his good arm and drives it into Pierce's face over and over, his weakened muscles the only thing that save Pierce's head from cracking against the hard wood of the floor. He stops when the fog around his head clears, chest heaving as he pushes himself shakily to his feet while Pierce spits teeth onto the floor._

_"My name is Bucky." His voice is trembling as badly as his hands, but he looks down at Pierce steadily. He sees him for what he is in spite of his fear: a sick, broken man. "And n-nobody owns me but me."_

*

"I ran. I dunno where I went, I know I was trying to get home." Bucky's voice is shaking again now, but only a little. "I kinda checked out after... It must've only been a few hours before the cops picked me up. That's what happened."

Steve is silent for a minute, then he slowly reaches out and pulls Bucky into his arms. Bucky can feel his boyfriend shaking too when he rests his head on his chest, but he figures maybe they both need to lose it for a little while.

"I wish I'd killed him." He whispers into Steve's shirt. There's no guilt in his voice, Pierce doesn't deserve to make him feel bad anymore.

"Me too." Steve mumbles back into his hair, and Bucky can feel the dampness that tells him Steve is crying. "Do you remember what you said to me when everyone found out about the Winter Soldier Tapes? Back at Shield?"

Bucky shakes his head.

"You never stopped fighting." Steve's voice is thick, and Bucky's kind of glad he can't see his face because he feels like he's going to fall apart if Steve is disappointed in him. "That's the first thing you said to me."

"I let you down." Bucky mumbles, quiet and choked. "I behaved for him, I gave in."

"You did what you had to do. You saved yourself." Steve reaches down and gently pushes Bucky's chin up so he can see him. He is crying, fat, angry tears tracking steadily down his cheeks. He touches their foreheads together, makes sure Bucky will hear him. "I'm so proud of you."

That's when Bucky starts to cry, but it doesn't hurt so much anymore. It feels like something is being washed away, the layer of grimy guilt that's been suffocating him for so long.

Through the tears, Bucky smiles.


	19. Wrecking Ball

The social worker is coming at eleven, and Bucky is kind of terrified.

"Buck, c'mon." Steve is calling him from the kitchen again. "Breakfast is ready."

"I'm not hungry." Bucky calls back, not caring how much he sounds like a whiny child. Steve just sighs and makes sure not to make a bang when he sets the pan down. Bucky still gets startled sometimes, more so when he hasn't slept.

"Babe, I know you're nervous. But you have to eat something." Steve finds Bucky curled up on his side of the bed, hiding his head under the pillows. "C'mon Buck, please? Don't do this today."

Things have been better and worse since Bucky came out and told Steve everything that had happened when Rumlow and Pierce kidnapped him (Steve stops thinking of it as 'when Bucky went missing', because _he_ didn't have anything to do with it). On one hand, Bucky's actually doing a lot better since he finally got a lot of the trauma out in the open with Steve. On the other hand, Steve's started to worry that he's stopped eating altogether.

He understands why Bucky has had trouble with food since he came back, but he never for a second suspects that his boyfriend is refusing to eat on purpose. They've been experimenting with what food Bucky can handle, so far as long as it isn't too stodgy (or thick liquid or salty liquid or…) then he can at least swallow it. It's keeping things down that's the problem. Bucky throws up so much that he's been making jokes about taking a pregnancy test.

Steve is pretty sure they're going to have a talk soon. He's pretty sure neither of them are going to enjoy it.

Bucky still doesn't budge. Steve sighs and puts his hand on his boyfriend's back, moving in slow circles. Last night was bad for nightmares for both of them, and of course now Bucky feels guilty for giving Steve nightmares on top of having his own. Steve just can't stop picturing the chair, picturing Bucky all alone and dirty and scared with no one coming to help him, while his friends just figured he was off drinking. The guilt weighs on them both, for different reasons.

"Please, Buck. The social worker's coming over, she can make things really difficult for us if it looks like you aren't doing okay." Bucky lets out a soft whine and Steve keeps rubbing the steady circles on his back. "I'll be here the whole time, she already knows you get nervous on your own. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Why do you sound like you don't believe that?" The pillows finally move and Bucky's messy hair and bleary eyes emerge from beneath them. His cheekbones are definitely sharper than Steve remembers them, and anxiety sparks in his gut all over again.

"I do believe it. I'm just worried she's gonna have something to say about all the weight you've lost. I don't want you to get upset if she says something."

 _I don't want her to think I can't take care of you_ goes unsaid, but it hangs heavy between them even in silence.

With a grunt, Bucky reluctantly pushes himself to sit up. Steve's black Shield Studios sweater is way too big on him, and Steve can't help crack a smile at how cute Bucky looks all swamped by his clothes. He's taken to wearing sweaters in bed lately, and although he says it's just to make him feel safer Steve can feel him shivering at night.

"I won't get upset." Bucky mutters, rubbing a hand over his sore, sleepless eyes. "I'll eat something. When's she coming?"

"Not 'til eleven, you've got time." Steve leans over and kisses his boyfriend softly, making Bucky sigh and some of the tension leave his body. "I made eggs, but you can just have toast or something if you're not feeling good."

"Yes _mom_." Bucky sticks his tongue out and Steve swats him on the arm, and it feels like maybe they can handle this today after all.

Two slices of toast later and Bucky's in the bathroom, his fingers down his throat as the shower runs to cover the sound. He'd tried to keep it down, he really had, but his nerves are all over the place and he can't handle losing control today. Not when there's going to be a strange person in their apartment, not when he can see that Steve is almost sick with nerves too.

Steve is nervous because he'd dealt with the DSS all through his childhood, and the memories aren't awesome. Bucky is nervous because he thinks he's going to be sized up and found lacking, punished for being inadequate. The tension in the air is palpable by the time the woman finally arrives.

Steve relaxes a little when he actually meets her. Sharon is friendly, smiles a lot, and waits for Bucky to offer his hand before she shakes it. She's good with boundaries without being obvious, and that immediately endears her to Steve.

Bucky is more suspicious, but he just stays quiet. He makes them all coffee with the careful precision of someone who can't afford to make a mistake, and if some of it spills when he brings it through to the living room because his hands are shaking, no one mentions it.

"Yeah, he's making great progress with Dr Erskine. I emailed you guys his details but I dunno if you got it."

"We did, don't worry. Our reply system sucks, don't worry if you don't get an email back straight away." Sharon smiles as Bucky comes back in and sets a cup of coffee in front of her. "Thank you."

"Thanks, Buck." Steve waits until Bucky's sat down to pick up his mug, silently noting that Bucky doesn't trust his hands enough to pick up his own. Sharon doesn't mention anything though, too busy searching in her bag for Bucky's file.

"So you prefer Bucky, right? Not James." She checks with him before she starts the conversation, and Steve likes her even more. Bucky nods quickly and she circles something on her sheet of paper. "Okay, great. Just to reassure you both, there's nothing too taxing about this visit. I'm just going to take a look around and ask you a couple of questions, nothing to worry about."

"And if you get too nervous you can take a break, okay?" Steve reminds Bucky quietly. Bucky just nods again and sits on his hands to stop them shaking.

"This is just a welfare check, I'm not going to rubber-stamp you and send you away. I literally don't have the power." Sharon jokes, which makes Bucky twitch an anxious, tight smile. "So, Bucky. How are you doing since you went missing?"

 _Went missing_ makes him tense up, but he breathes slowly and handles it. He reminds himself again that he can handle things, has done before and will do again. His internal voice sounds like Dr Erskine.

"Better." He tries not to mumble, because he can feel his accent coming through with his nerves. "Been to all my appointments, taken my meds."

"That's good to hear." Sharon makes a couple of notes. "And how about you, Steve?"

"Uh, fine." Steve smiles, sounding a lot more confident than his boyfriend. "Worried about Bucky, as usual, but things are fine."

"And you both have jobs, correct? You work at…" She turns the page. "Angels?"

"Yep. I work security, Bucky works behind the bar." Steve explains.

"So how are you doing with full-time employment?" She addresses Bucky. "It says here you have trouble keeping a routine because of your mental health issues."

"It's more my arm than my brain." Bucky gestures to his brace, feeling irritated for some reason. He's not _broken_ , he can work.

"We're close friends with the guys who own the place, they understand when Buck can't go into work and they're flexible about him moving shifts around. You don't have to worry about him getting fired." Steve jumps in, trying to head off potential problems as they happen.

"That's great to hear, that was going to be my next question." She makes another note on her paper and Steve feels a little better. "And how are the episodes of memory loss?"

"I remember _everything_." Bucky mutters, not sure why she's grating on him. Steve shoots him a warning look, but Sharon doesn't seem to mind his defensiveness.

"I'm not trying to catch you out, Bucky. I'm just here to make sure you're doing okay." She reminds him firmly, if kindly, and Bucky looks down at his lap.

"I haven't had another bad episode since." He mumbles, eventually. "I still forget stuff all the time, but I have a checklist of stuff to do and we write anything important on the fridge." He gestures to where the date and time of this appointment is written in erasable marker on the front of the refrigerator.

"So you have good coping strategies in place." Sharon nods approvingly. "And the self-harming?"

"I don't do that anymore." Bucky speaks a little clearer this time, and he could swear Steve looks proud. "I've been working on it with my therapist, I haven't done it for a long time."

"That's excellent news." Even she looks genuinely pleased for him, and Bucky sits up a little straighter. He's handling this, he's doing okay. He even shoots a little smile across at Steve when Sharon's busy looking at her file.

Any good feeling drains away at her next words.

"What kind of treatment are you having for your eating disorder?"

Bucky can feel Steve go rigid beside him, and he really hopes that practice at moderating his reactions has stuck. For a crazy moment he pictures what would happen if Steve backhanded him in front of the social worker.

"Uh… I'm sorry?" He frowns at Sharon, doing his best impression of confusion. "I don't have an eating disorder."

"I… Oh, I'm so sorry. I just assumed." She looks him straight in the eye, and he can tell she doesn't buy any of his bullshit. "That's unprofessional of me, I apologise."

"It's fine, don't worry about it." Steve is being overly-polite to cover his tension, and Bucky can't help but feel a sense of dread about the conversation they're doubtless going to have when Sharon leaves. "Bucky has been having trouble eating lately, but it's related to past abuse. It's not an eating disorder."

"My mistake." She makes another note, and Bucky can _feel_ the follow-up visit coming. "You've lost a lot of weight since the picture they took at the precinct."

Bucky blanches when he realises she's looking him over. Something about someone assessing his body like that, sizing him up, makes his stomach tighten uncomfortably. Steve can see the outburst coming, but he can't do anything to avert it.

"You wouldn't wanna eat either if you spent years with someone sticking a cock in your mouth every time you opened it."

" _Bucky_." It's not even an admonishment, Steve is just shocked by the vicious, bitter words. There's shock clear on the social worker's face too, and she realises she's pushed him too far.

"It's okay, I know it's a sensitive topic. It's my fault, I shouldn't have said anything." She backpedals quickly, and Bucky kind of hopes they can avoid a follow-up visit if she thinks she's triggered him.

It's an oddly calculating thought to pass through his mind, because the rest of his thoughts are in shutdown. Steve can see him getting overwhelmed and reaches over to squeeze his boyfriend's hand.

"How about you take a break while I show Sharon the apartment?" Distantly, Bucky admires him for trying to salvage this disaster. He nods slightly and Sharon is only too happy to follow Steve into the kitchen and away from the conversation.

Bucky is so hungry he feels like he might puke. He couldn't even be good for Steve for an hour, he's such a failure.

He can hear snatches of their quiet conversation in the kitchen, and he can hardly believe that Steve is still sticking up for him.

"…if he's this easily triggered."

"He's not usually like this, you're not getting an accurate picture." Steve insists. "He's been nervous as hell about this appointment for days and he hasn't slept. He's scared you're going to make him go to a hospital, of course he's on edge."

Bucky doesn't hear what Sharon says to that, because he's too busy putting his head in his hands and trying to breathe through the nausea that has his head spinning. He has to get it together, he has to handle this.

He pinches the inside of his arm so hard it bruises, but he manages to smile sheepishly and apologise when the social worker comes back into the room.

The rest of the visit actually passes fairly smoothly. Sharon is impressed with the ways they've adapted the apartment to deal with Bucky's arm, and she's satisfied that he seems to be in a better place than he had been a month ago. She gives Steve the information of some support groups, and he takes it gratefully with the intention of actually going. Bucky is glad, because he knows how hard being with him is on Steve sometimes, even if his boyfriend doesn't talk about it.

Sharon leaves saying she'll call them if the department think it's necessary to arrange another visit or have him assessed by someone other than Dr Erskine. Bucky retreats the second the door is shut behind her, going right back to bed and curling up in the same position he'd been in before this whole thing started.

Steve follows at a distance, pausing to text Natasha and tell her things went well. As well as they could have hoped, at least.

"I thought you said you wouldn't get upset if she said something about your weight?"

Steve's not angry, that's the first thing that strikes Bucky. His boyfriend's voice is neutral as he sinks down onto the bed behind Bucky, not judging one way or the other. Bucky knows he's been rude and surly and hasn't behaved well at all, and yet Steve isn't yelling at him. He's a little bit freaked out by that.

"She was rude." Bucky mumbles, curling in on himself tighter. Steve sighs and puts his hand on his boyfriend's back in a familiar comforting gesture, and they're right back where they started this morning.

"That doesn't mean you can make her think she triggered you. She was really upset." He still doesn't raise his voice, but Bucky still can't stop bracing himself for the fallout that must be coming.

"M'sorry." He mutters. "I didn't mean to."

"I know. It's okay." Steve's hand never stops making its slow circles on Bucky's back, and Bucky actually starts to relax. Steve has never hit him, he reminds himself for the millionth time, and he isn't about to start now.

Steve doesn't stop the soothing motion even when he speaks again, carefully.

"Whatever you say, I promise you I'm not gonna get mad." That makes Bucky tense up all over again, with good reason. "But I need you to tell me what's really going on with your eating. No more secrets, Buck."

Bucky is too frozen to say anything. Steve doesn't break the silence, he just keeps rubbing those comforting circles and patiently waits for Bucky to speak. Bucky swallows hard against nothing and tries to think of a way out. But the thing is, he's just so _tired_. His muscles cramp all the time now, and his joints ache like an old man's. He's starting to get sick of having no energy and his teeth aching from stomach acid after every meal. It's stopped feeling like control, this thing: it's started to feel like it controls him.

With Steve solid and steady behind him, Bucky almost feels safe enough to admit that.

After a long time, he starts to talk.


	20. Skyscraper

The first week of trying to eat better is a fucking nightmare.

Bucky adamantly refuses to get into any kind of treatment programme. When persuading him otherwise goes nowhere, Steve agrees to let him try on his own on the condition that he actually gains some weight back in the next week.

"And I'm not talking about a pound, Buck." Steve insists, arms around his boyfriend and trying not to cringe at every sharp bone he can feel clearly now that he knows they're there. "I mean actual weight."

Bucky tries, he really does, and it's not until he's crying and puking at the same time because he's so distraught that he's let Steve down that he realises just how out of control not eating has really made him. But he doesn't want to go to the doctor because he's convinced he'll get locked up in a hospital somewhere, and he's just dodged that bullet with the social worker. He wants to get better, wants to make Steve proud, but he's scared that this is just a step too far.

He whispers his fears to Arrow, when Steve is busy cooking something else that'll just end up in the toilet half an hour after Bucky eats it. It's been seven says of trying to eat properly, and he's scared that Steve is going to force him to get the doctor involved if he doesn't get it together soon. Bucky feels like he's drowning all over again, and all the pressure that had disappeared when he finally talked to Steve is building up all over again.

What Bucky doesn't know is that Steve overhears him spilling out his anxieties to the toy, lingering in the doorway where he'd been coming to ask his boyfriend a question. Steve retreats back into the kitchen and thinks again. He's not sure if the idea that's rolling around in the back of his mind is the best or worst one he's had since he found out what's really been going on with Bucky and food.

Still, maybe the only thing to do is just shoot from the hip and try, see what happens. They deserve one Hail Mary Pass before he has to go against Bucky's wishes and get outside people involved.

"Buck, dinner's ready."

The words are something he dreads these days, and Bucky squeezes Arrow extra tight before he puts him down on the couch and gets up. He shuffles into the kitchen reluctantly, because he's really tired of throwing up.

The words blindside him.

"Get on your knees."

Steve is sitting at the kitchen table, a cushion placed on the floor beside his chair. Bucky sinks to his knees automatically, looking up at Steve with wide eyes. He usually had to ask for it when he needed something like this, he's not sure Steve had ever initiated it himself.

"Good, you're so good." Steve cups his cheek gently and leans down to kiss him, and Bucky sighs into his mouth. There's nothing here that resembles Alexander Pierce except that Bucky is on his knees, and his mind doesn't make any bad connections at all. The anxiety about eating is slipping away, because Bucky knows Steve won't let anything bad happen to him.

"Do you want me to take control?"

"Yes, please." Bucky murmurs. That's one of their conditions: Steve can ask Bucky for a verbal consent at any point, and everything stops if he doesn't get one.

"I'm taking charge, you don't have to make any decisions. Just go as you're told." Steve tells him, and the little ritual of the saying always calms Bucky and puts his head in a good place. "How do you feel?"

"Good." Bucky's voice is quiet, already slipping into that warm, calm place in his head.

"What's your colour?"

"Green."

"Good boy. Such a good boy." Steve kisses him again softly, and he's so far away from Pierce they're barely even the same species. "I'm so proud of you."

Bucky practically glows under the praise, nuzzling into the palm of Steve's hand like an affectionate cat. Steve hides his nerves behind the strong façade he knows his boyfriend needs, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before he straightens up and cups Bucky's chin in his hand, making sure he's paying attention.

"I need you to listen carefully for me." Bucky twitches a tiny nod and Steve continues. "I want you to be clear that what I'm going to do isn't going to be a regular thing. This isn't going to fix your problems with eating, I'm not going to take over that responsibility for you."

Bucky just nods again, looking up at Steve with starry eyes like he hung the moon. Steve would be worried if they hadn't done this before, if he didn't know how much Bucky needed the break of being able to disappear inside the safe places in his head for a little while.

"I'm doing this because I need you to keep some food down, it's been days since you have. If you can't do it yourself soon then we're going to get you some help, okay?"

Another nod, along with a slow, lazy blink that tells Steve that just his tone of voice and the fact he's giving instructions in this context has pushed Bucky deep under.

"I need you to be good for me now baby, can you do that?"

"Yes sir." Bucky smiles dopily and Steve strokes his fingers gently over his cheek. "Love you."

"I love you too." Steve smiles back and Bucky grins like he's won a million dollars. Steve just hopes that he's deep enough under for this to work, because it's been four days since Bucky kept any food down and they're this close from a trip to the emergency room that his boyfriend won't have any say in.

Slowly, making sure he doesn't do anything to startle Bucky, Steve twists towards the table to reach for his plate. He's put a few things together, since Bucky's had such a hard time eating that he doesn't want to shock his stomach and make him sick unintentionally. There are some boiled vegetables, some bread and peanut butter, and a few pieces of fruit. It shouldn't be too hard. Steve picks up a small carrot stick and turns back to Bucky, swallowing his uncertainty and smiling reassuringly.

"I want you to eat this, sweetheart. Can you do that?"

Bucky twitches and Steve thinks it's the food for a second before he lets out a shaky whisper.

"N-No sweetheart." He can hear it in Pierce's voice, echoing through his head like a bad dream, and Steve catches on immediately.

"No, okay. I won't call you that again." He leans down and kisses Bucky and he can feel the tension leave his boyfriend as he's reassured that he's safe. "Do you feel okay?"

"Yes sir." Bucky murmurs, turning his face to kiss the inside of Steve's wrist. Reassured, Steve holds out the carrot stick again.

"Can you eat this for me?" He's careful not to shove it into Bucky's face, to hold it low and open-palmed like he's trying to give a treat to a scared dog.

Bucky hesitates, but after a moment he slowly leans forward and puts his lips on Steve's fingertips. He works his way up to the carrot stick, slowly mouthing over Steve's skin until he finally takes the vegetable unto his mouth and chews it slowly. He swallows and looks conflicted for a moment before he swallows emptily again, the pallor of his skin moving towards nausea, and Steve quickly picks up the glass of water he has on the table.

"Here, baby." He holds it to Bucky's lips and tips it gently, being so _so_ careful not to choke him or make him think he has to drink if he doesn't want to.

Bucky's throat works around the water and he moves back when he doesn't want any more, which is a good sign because it means he knows that Steve isn't going to hurt him for moving of his own volition. Steve leans down with a grin and peppers Bucky's face with light little kisses, making him let out a soft giggle.

"Good job, I'm so proud of you. You're such a good boy for me." And while the D/s thing is something he's always done for Bucky's benefit, Steve actually feels the swell of pride in his chest this time. "Do you still feel okay? What's your colour?"

"Green." Bucky murmurs quietly. "I feel okay."

"Good. You tell me if you stop feeling okay, you won't ever get into any trouble." Steve promises, and Bucky nods again. "I'm going to feed you something else now, do you think you can handle that?"

"I can handle it." Bucky murmurs softly, his eyes half closed and a smile still lingering on his lips from the knowledge that he's done something good, that Steve is proud of him.

Steve reaches for a piece of bread and peanut butter, tears it into pieces so he has small chunks to hand-feed Bucky. Bucky takes it all beautifully, asking for water when he needs it and resting his head on Steve's thigh when he needs a break. He gets through the whole plate, and Steve keeps him under for a little while longer until he stops fidgeting and it seems like the danger of him purging reflexively is passed.

Bucky sleeps that night with food in his stomach, and he feels so much better it's almost like a miracle. The next morning he wakes up before Steve and eats two slices of toast, no matter that it takes him an hour and Steve is awake by the time he's done. The important part is that he managed it himself, _he_ made the decision and _he_ pushed past his fears to do it.

He thanks Steve for breaking the wall later, a soft murmur while they're curled up watching the TV. Steve just shakes his head and kisses him, because as far as he's concerned it's all Bucky and he's so damn proud he could burst.

He doesn't count on just how far Bucky taking back control will go.

*

Bucky walks into the precinct at two o'clock on a Thursday afternoon and asks for Detective Phillips. It takes a while to get the desk clerk to get in touch with him, but once Bucky gives his name the detective agrees to see him within thirty minutes.

Twenty-five minutes later Bucky is sitting in an interview room with a cup of stale coffee and Phillips asking him why he's here.

"I want to report a crime, I guess." Bucky balls his hands into fists under the table and lets the bite of nails in his palms ground him. "Assault and… I guess I just gotta explain it all. The guy's name is Alexander Pierce."

Detective Phillips calls his partner and tells him to push back all the paperwork he has for the next two days. He knows all about Alexander Pierce.

This is going to take a while.  


	21. Start a War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delays in updating, I'm currently in Germany visiting my partner so I'm a little distracted by food and boobs at the moment.

"Why didn't you pick up your phone?"

Steve might be overreacting a little.

He tugs Bucky into his arms the moment his boyfriend comes through the front door, looking pale and a little dazed. Bucky hugs him back, so he can't be in too bad of a state, and Steve lets out a huff of relief. He hasn't been _panicking_ about Bucky being back two hours later than he said he'd be, but he'll admit to worrying himself half to death.

"Sorry, I'm overreacting. I just started worrying someone took you again or…" He shakes his head and pulls back to check Bucky over reflexively, making sure he's in one piece physically and mentally.

"No, I'm sorry. My phone was on silent, I should have checked." Bucky reassures him, knowing it's not that Steve doesn't trust him that's making him so overprotective.

Things have been getting better over the last couple of weeks, slow and steady, and Bucky's almost reluctant to blow everything to hell again. But he's determined, he's already taken the first step and a steamroller couldn't stop him now.

He can _handle_ it, he is _handling_ it, and he'll just have to hope Steve can too.

"I have to tell you something."

He shepherds Steve to the couch and shoves Arrow into his lap, and thankfully his boyfriend goes with it and doesn't protest. Bucky paces as he talks, because now he's eating better the nervous energy he used to get when he's anxious has returned in full force.

Steve just listens as everything spills out at once. Going to the police station, telling Phillips what had happened with Pierce, taking three hours and two cups of coffee and only one breakdown into tears to manage it. Phillips telling him that they've known about Pierce abusing rent boys and vulnerable young men for years now, but no one has ever been willing to give evidence against him. Bucky agreeing to do it, to testify and give them whatever they need, because he can't stand the idea of the same thing happening to someone else.

He's almost shaking with something between excitement and fear by the time he gets it all out. Steve is staring in what seems to be shock, and Bucky drops down on the couch beside him as concern swells hot in his chest.

"I know I didn't tell you first and I'm sorry, but I didn't plan it. I was just walking down the fucking street and I was so paranoid about seeing him anywhere I looked and I was thinking about how unfair it is that _I_ have to be scared and… It was kinda… impulsive." He chews on his lip hard enough to bruise and Steve snaps out of his surprised reverie. "Don't be mad?"

"Oh babe, I'm not mad." Steve shakes his head immediately and leans over to kiss Bucky's temple. "I'm fucking… impressed. You're standing up for yourself and you wanna do it in public. That's... wow."

"It's not that great." Bucky mumbles, as it starts to dawn on him what a big decision he's made. It will be in public, it'll be in court, Pierce is famous and it'll probably make the papers.

"Just the fact that you thought of it and wanted to show the bastard that you shouldn't have to be scared of him is awesome." Steve insists, but he sees the sudden hesitation in Bucky's eyes and thinks he can figure out why. "But you know you don't have to go through with it, right? You didn't commit to anything yet?"

"I… no. I have to go back tomorrow and talk to another detective and they're gonna see if the state can bring a case and…" Bucky chews on his lip again and feels like a coward. "But I'm not backing down. He doesn't get to win again."

"Just promise me that you'll really think about it, Buck." Steve puts his arm around Bucky's shoulders and feels his boyfriend practically vibrating with tension as he rests against his chest. "I'll back up whatever you want to, I'm behind you all the way, but I want you to be sure that you can handle it. You've come so far lately and I don't want you to end up at square one because of this asshole all over again."

"But what if I do?" Bucky asks softly, finally starting to calm down as he feels Steve's heartbeat steady against his cheek.

"Then I'll still be here." Steve promises quietly. "I just don't want you to have to go through it again."

"He… He did it to other people, Steve. Other guys. An eighteen year old kid, one of them. They just can't prove it." Bucky's voice is quiet, but the determination comes back into it. "I can stop him doing it to anyone else."

"It's not your responsibility, Buck."

"Yeah, it is." Bucky meets Steve's eyes and his boyfriend realises there's no backing down from this. "If I run then I'm always gonna be running. I'm standing my ground this time."

Looks like they both are.

*

"He did it to other guys."

Natasha is a good listener. She can hear every horrible, fucked up thing inside his head and just take it on the chin. She's good at keeping a poker face and not letting what she feels show unless he asks for her opinion.

Bucky's grateful for it today, because can't tell Steve this shit.

"And somehow it makes me feel… Like I'm sad for the other guys too but I'm almost… jealous?"

He runs his fingers anxiously through his hair and keeps his eyes on the sludgy black coffee in his mug. Natasha makes it his way, maybe it's a Russian thing.

"Like I'm not… special anymore, because he did it to other people. How fucked up is that?

"You thought he loved you, remember?" Natasha, as always, makes it seem like the horrible things in his head aren't as horrible as he thinks they are. "He was the most important thing in your life for a long time. The _only_ thing in your life. And sometimes he was sweet to you and he took care of you the way no one else did. Of course you got attached in some way."

"I was fucking stupid." Bucky grunts. One delicate, deceptively strong hand reaches over and covers his fucked up one.

"It's okay to mourn it, James. It means you're finally accepting that it's over."

Slowly, Bucky turns his hand over and laces their fingers together so he can squeeze hers. Natasha really is a good listener.

*

"So, in what universe are you not too proud to ask for money?"

Tony is watching Steve from across his desk with his eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline, and Steve's face is starting to burn under the gaze.

"It's not for me, it's for Bucky." He tries his best to sound like asking for help isn't wounding his pride down to the bone. "And it's an advance on my wages for when I come back to work at Shield."

"So why does your snowbunny need that much money, hm?" Tony leans forward and starts toying with a Newton's cradle that's sitting on his desk. "Russian mobsters? Price of eyeliner gone up?"

Steve definitely, _definitely_ doesn't have to swallow a smirk at the last one.

"He's, um, he's bringing a lawsuit against Alexander Pierce." He explains. "Or the state might bring it, we don't know if anyone else is going to testify yet. But either way we can't afford a lawyer on our own and the legal aid—"

"He's filing against Pierce? And he's going to testify?" The Newton's cradle is suddenly not the most interesting thing in the room to Tony. He sits up straight and wakes up his computer with a tap to the screen. "I'll put you in touch with my team, we have a whole department for this. Best guys in New York."

"That's…" Steve shakes his head regretfully. "We can't afford that, Tony. Even with an advance on my wages."

"You don't understand." Tony pauses from tapping away at his weird touch-keyboard to look Steve in the eye. "I'm not lending you money. I'm providing you with my legal team and any other resources you need, free of charge."

"But…" Steve's eyes just about bug out of his head. "Why?"

"Because I fucking hate Alexander Pierce and I want to see him burn." Tony is blunt, no tempering or holding back of his matter-of-fact tone. "I had some addiction issues back in the day, you might have heard."

"I'm pretty sure they made a movie about it, yeah." Steve is still watching him with confusion and Tony snorts.

They did make a movie about it in the nineties. He was _furious_ with the script. The only thing he liked about it was the casting, because at least Robert Downey Jr. looks a little bit like him.

"Yeah, well. I know what it's like to get taken advantage of when you're fucked up. And if Barnes goes to trial they're going to do everything they can to discredit him and make him look like a junkie whore that no one's gonna believe over _the Alexander Pierce_. You're gonna need something better than a legal aid part-timer to handle that."

Steve can't help the look of disbelief spreading over his face, because so much shit has happened to them over the last year that this might be the first break they've had. There's no way Tony's not serious about this, he looks like he's already gearing up for a fight.

"And I'm not kidding when I say I hate Pierce. I hate the way he does business, I hate the way he treats his employees, and I hate that his company tries to make a lack of consent sexy. If you're gonna try and take him down then I will absolutely do everything in my power to help."

"I… I can't thank you enough. Really. You have no idea how much we needed this." Steve is worryingly close to tears, so relieved that it feels like a physical weight has fallen from his shoulders, and he can see Tony politely not noticing the emotion that's written all over his face. "You're a good guy, Tony."

"Yeah, well. I've got a lot of bad shit to make up for." He presses send on his email and shoots Steve a grim smile. "I'll get Pepper to call you tomorrow with the details. And tell Barnes to stop by sometime, I miss the kid."

"I will."

"He still sober?"

"Over a year, he only relapsed once."

"Well, how about that. Tell the snowflake I'm proud of him." Tony walks him to the door, and Steve can't resist the urge to pull his former employer into a quick, tight hug in the doorway.

"I really… Thank you." To his credit, Tony only awkwardly pats Steve on the back once before Steve gets the hint and lets him go. "We wouldn't be able to do this without you."

"If you're going to war against Pierce, you're gonna need all the help you can get."

Those are the words that really make it hit home.

They're about to start a war, and Pierce isn't going to go down without a fight.


	22. Drain You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, folks. I'm back from visiting my partner now so expect updates to resume more frequently now. 
> 
> The next couple of chapters will be difficult for me to write for personal reasons, so I hope they're worth reading.

"Steve, we need you in the back."

Darcy looks shaken up, more ruffled than he's ever seen her. They haven't been on the best of terms since Bucky relapsed, but Steve doesn't blame her for something that he realises was inevitable now he knows what happened when Bucky went missing. Still, it's a surprise to have Darcy rushing over to him right as his shift is about to begin.

"I'm supposed to be out front." He takes out his earpiece to follow her though. "What's the problem?"

"It's Bucky." She barely gets the last syllable out before Steve is hurrying after her to the stockroom. "We were working and he just… Phil said to come get you."

Sometimes Steve is amazed by how fast his brain works when it comes to Bucky these days. He sees his boyfriend sitting on a crate of beer, hunched over with his head practically between his knees and his shoulders stuttering with the unsteady rhythm of his breath, and he immediately relaxes because at least it's not something worse. He knows how to handle this.

It comes to something when a panic attack is no big deal in their relationship. They've had much worse.

"What happened?" He asks Phil, who straightens up from where he's been sitting in front of Bucky and trying to talk to him.

"No idea. Darcy said he just started panicking and he's not saying anything." Phil shrugs. He's familiar with panic attacks too, although Clint's are a lot more violent, and he knows Bucky has a tendency to get stuck in a loop if someone doesn't intervene. "I'll call Thor and see if he can cover his shift."

"Thanks, Phil." Steve takes his place in front of his boyfriend, who doesn't seem to notice he's there yet.

With Phil disappeared into the office and Darcy back behind the bar, the only sounds in the back room are the muffled music from the club and Bucky's ragged breathing. Steve reaches out and carefully takes his boyfriend's hands, squeezing them until the pressure breaks through the fog of Bucky's freak-out and he looks up with wide eyes.

"Hey, Buck." Steve smiles as convincingly as he can, because getting Bucky calm is the priority. "I need you to try and breathe a bit slower, okay?"

Bucky shakes his head frantically and Steve just keeps his voice as level and soft as he can. His boyfriend often becomes somewhat childish when he panics, refusing to follow instructions like a toddler.

"I know you can do it for me baby, c'mon. I'll help you, you just try and breathe for as long as I count." He squeezes Bucky's hands again, trying to keep him in the present and focused. "There's nothing to be scared about, I promise. Just try for me."

The gentle persuasion works, and Steve slowly helps Bucky calm his breathing down enough to stop hyperventilating. He tugs on Steve's hands when he's together enough to be aware of himself again, and Steve pulls him into his arms. He can feel Bucky's heart rabbiting through his shirt as he runs a comforting hand over his back, and he softly lets out the sigh he's been holding in.

"I can't do it. I can't stand up in front of all those people and… and…" Bucky's still on the edge of panic, his voice shaky and his skin too hot where he hides his face in Steve's neck, and Steve shushes him softly.

"Yes you can, Buck. Everything's gonna go just fine, and I'm gonna be right there with you if it doesn't." Steve reassures him, trying to head off the panic starting up all over again. "You've been so brave so far, all you have to do is be brave one more time."

Bucky whimpers and hides his face again, and Steve can't really blame him for it.

The looming trial has been hard on them both, but Steve can't compare his nerves to what his boyfriend has been going through. Pretty much everything Steve feared has come true: Bucky can't sleep, he's still having trouble eating enough to actually stay on his feet, and the panic attacks and dissociative episodes have just got worse and worse as he has to go through all his testimony in minute detail over and over to prepare with the lawyers.

The memory problems are the worst. Steve thinks it's Bucky's mind's way of defending itself when he has to keep raking over every traumatic memory, the way it seems to have mostly given up on trying to create anything new. Anything significant leaves enough of a trace for Bucky to have some sense that it's happened, at least, but everything else is like smoke in the wind.

They've watched _Lilo and Stitch_ four times since Steve found out it calms Bucky down, and his boyfriend still can't remember seeing it once. Steve thanks God every day for TiVo, because he wakes up in the night to find Bucky sitting in front of the TV watching what he thinks, for the third time, is a new episode of _Next Great Baker_ to ward off his nightmares. They use the checklist every day now, to make sure Bucky remembers to shower and eat and go to work on time, but it's still a struggle because he sometimes forgets there's a list altogether.

What he never forgets is what happened with Alexander Pierce. That's burned into his brain no matter what else melts away like ice. That part of Bucky is still frozen in place, unable to move or run or do anything but shiver.

"I'm scared." Bucky mumbles into Steve's chest, and Steve strokes a hand over his dark hair gently. He hasn't washed it again, must have forgotten he hadn't already when he showered.

"I know babe, I'm sorry." Steve looks up when Phil ducks out of the office to give him an OK sign and smiles a tight thanks. "C'mon, I'll take you home. You'll feel better when you get some sleep."

"Can I take some of the meds?"

It's not the greatest solution for someone with a history of substance abuse, but Dr Erskine has prescribed Bucky some sleeping pills for when things are really bad. As hesitant as Steve is to have his boyfriend taking opiates again, he's pretty sure this counts as really bad.

"Yeah, Buck. I'll get them out for you when we get home." He helps Bucky to his feet and keeps his arm around his shoulders. "Hang onto me, okay? I'll get you there."

This isn't a weight he can carry for Bucky, but he can try his best to hold him up while he does it.

*

The first morning of the trial, Bucky's hands are shaking too hard to button up his shirt.

"Didn't the doc give you those meds for the anxiety?" Steve asks gently, as he pushes Bucky's fumbling hands aside to button the formal shirt for him. He's still not so keen on the medication, but he thinks Bucky is going to shake himself into another dimension if he doesn't calm down soon.

The last two months have gone from bad to worse, and Bucky is now medicated almost constantly to keep him stable. They just have to get through the trial, that's the mantra Steve keeps in his mind, when everything he'd ever worried about when it came to medication and raking over Bucky's past came true. They just have to get through the next couple of weeks and things will be back to normal.

Except they won't, because Steve's pretty sure Bucky's on the verge of a nervous breakdown whatever happens with the verdict. He's also pretty sure that if Pierce doesn't get locked up then he's going to murder him with his own hands.

"Can't be medicated on the stand." Bucky shakes his head, leaning into Steve's touch with a bitten-back keening sound. "If I come across drugged then the jury won't believe a word I say. They're already gonna make me look like I'm a junkie an-and…"

"Just… take deep breaths, okay?" Steve feels completely useless as he runs his hand over Bucky's unruly hair to try and tame it. "Who else are they calling?"

"Tasha. Brock Rumlow. Some people who work at Hydra. Tony Stark. And… him."

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. He can't touch you, remember? He can't even speak to you."

Bucky just shakes his head again and keeps his face hidden in Steve's shoulder. It doesn't matter if he speaks _to_ Bucky, he'll still feel every carefully placed barb in Pierce's voice like it's being driven into his skin directly. That voice still haunts his nightmares, has led to a broken TV set when the voice-over on a show sounded just a little too close for comfort.

He can't let this rule his life anymore, for both their sakes.

Bucky takes a few long, deep breaths and then straightens up, his jaw set again. Steve feels relieved to see the resolve return, he'd never tell Bucky but he's totally willing to back out of this, even now. He can see this breaking his boyfriend permanently if it doesn't frame right in his head, if he doesn't get an outcome that he thinks he deserves, but as long as Bucky can take it head-on then right now he's not going to do anything but back him up.

"Ready?"

Bucky takes his hand, his brace not hidden from his shirtsleeve down as he squeezes Steve's fingers. He looks like he's the one being put on trial, and that's pretty much how this is going to go. Lawyers aren't therapists, and they won't be kind.

"Ready."


	23. Die Young

Judge Ronan doesn't let Pierce's lawyer finish his sentence when he tries to ask for the case to be dismissed before it even begins due to a lack of evidence. The judge is an imposing figure, looks like he should be on the football field instead of the bench, and is known to be brutal about his concept of justice being met. The case will be heard, whatever the verdict.

It might be a good thing, Bucky's not sure yet.

Tony's team, Peter Quill and Ms Gamora (whose first name even _Tony_ doesn't dare use for fear of pissing her off) don't seem worried. They'd told Bucky that this would happen, that Pierce's lawyers would try to stop any evidence being entered into the record to protect his reputation, but it still makes Bucky swallow hard and clench his fists in his lap

This thing hasn't even started yet and he already feels like he wants to die. The media attention has been ramping up in the past couple of weeks, since Pierce is famous within the adult industry and mostly everyone is quietly familiar with Hydra's practices, and there are familiar faces packing out the courtroom to try and get a look at the idiot who _dared_ to try and go up against him.

Bucky feels too small to dare to do anything, now he's here in his fucking itchy suit under the too-bright courtroom lights. He feels like the microscope of attention is just intensifying the heat until it burns him to nothing but ash.

Quill reaches over and squeezes his forearm before he stands up to begin his opening statement, and Bucky is grateful. Tony wasn't lying when he'd said his legal team was the best, and they were obviously very carefully briefed about how to behave before they met Bucky for the first time. He's pretty sure he owes Pepper a thank you of some kind for all the panic attacks he's avoided over the last few months just because they've been told how to avoid setting him off. Probably several kinds of thanks.

He doesn't listen too hard to the opening statement, does his best not to anyway. Quill and Gamora had given him a draft copy in advance so there wouldn't be anything too surprising in it for him. If he lost it later on, during his evidence even, they said it could even be a positive thing for their case: a panic attack is pretty good for swaying a jury to sympathy. But during the opening statements he has to keep it together.

So Bucky doesn't listen to words like _sustained and systematic abuse_ , _dehumanisation and inhumane treatment_ , _sexual assault and deliberate deprivation of agency_.

He looks at the desk in front of him and thinks of Steve and doesn't listen to _exploitation and intimidation_ , _assault and battery_ , _enforced prostitution and coercion_.

He bites the inside of his lip until he tastes copper and tries not to hear _psychological trauma_ , _post-traumatic stress disorder_ , and _permanent disability._

He tries not to listen to everything terrible that happened to him laid out like that, like he's a cold body on a slab and they're pointing to all the places where he's broken.

Pierce's team's response is just as predictable as if they'd had it on paper ahead of time. These accusations are baseless and their client feels great sympathy for the desperate young man bringing them, that he's aware of Bucky's history of substance abuse and he's upset that it's gone so far as to bring a false case for monetary gain. That they'll do their best to prove these claims are false as quickly as possible so they don't waste too much of anyone's time.

Bucky wants to scream.

"Hey, _hey_!" Quill catches him in the bathroom with Steve's pocket knife when the court is in recess.

The guy is tough, stacked despite his friendly-puppy demeanour, and he's slapped the blade out of Bucky's hand before Bucky even has a chance to try and form some kind of excuse from the storm swirling in his head. His large hands aren't bruising on Bucky's wrists, just tight enough to keep him in place.

"You break skin yet? No, good." Quill looks him over and doesn't see any wounds, so he sets to rolling Bucky's shirtsleeve down and buttoning it tightly again. "Don't do this to me, kid. Not now, okay? We've come way too far for that."

"They're not gonna believe me." Bucky stutters, shaken up by the opening statements despite his desperate attempts to close his ears and not listen. Quill shakes his head, brow furrowing as he fiddles with Bucky's buttons.

"Yeah, maybe they won't. But we're gonna give it everything we've got, I promise. Guys like Pierce don't go to jail, we've been saying that from the word go." Quill finishes neatening Bucky up and looks him in the eye, carefully putting a hand on his good shoulder. "I need you with me here, Bucky. You've got to keep it together until you finish testifying, I can't do my job if you don't do that."

Bucky nods slowly, his mouth twitching in a guilty downwards curve when he thinks about how much is resting on his shoulders. This is about more than just him now, and he can't crumble with everything stacked on top of him just waiting to fall down. That's what Pierce would want him to do.

"And you know the defence are gonna be assholes, right? Me and Gamora can't leave anything out when we question you or they're gonna jump on that like a dog on raw meat." He sees Bucky flinch and bites back a sigh.

He's been doing this for a long time, but with Stark things are mostly corporate law and contract disputes. It's been a while since he's been faced with a witness this fragile. It's been even longer since he heard a case with gruesome details like this, he'd only ever seen it in theory. And reading the textbooks was a lot different from meeting someone as broken by the world as Bucky Barnes. Quill just wants a conviction, for the kid's sake if nothing else.

"We have to kinda be dicks to try and head them off from being even bigger dicks. You get that, right?"

Bucky nods again, keeping his eyes on his stupid smart shoes and feeling about two inches tall. Quill squeezes his shoulder and lets him go, picks up the pocket knife on his way to the door and doesn't give it back. It's hidden in one of his pockets when he sticks his head out of the door.

"Hey, G. Get Rogers in here, will you?" Gamora must be standing right outside the bathroom door, because Bucky hears an answering murmur and then the door swings shut again.

"Ten minutes, okay? Pop a Xanax or something if you need to." Quill is still there when Bucky looks up, waiting and not leaving Bucky alone after what he'd just seen. "And I wanna tell you that I fucking admire what you're doing, kid. You're a brave son of a bitch and I'm gonna do everything I can to make sure that's not for nothing."

Bucky just nods a third time, not trusting his voice.

Ten minutes, okay. He can get his shit together in ten minutes.

He has to.

*

"Your honour." Quill begins, cutting a much more imposing figure when he stands up in court than the friendly guy Bucky knows. "I'd like to respectfully request that we be allowed to call our principal witness first. Due to the nature of his testimony this trial is extremely distressing for him, and I'd suggest that it would be good practice for him to testify first under the circumstances."

"Your grounds are solid." Judge Ronan nods, deep voice rumbling up from whatever pit it lives in inside him. "You may proceed."

"Objection!" Bucky gets the feeling that Pierce's lawyers are going to object to pretty much anything they want to do throughout this shitshow.

"Denied." Ronan waves them away dismissively. "The prosecution may proceed."

Bucky prays his legs don't shake as he walks up to the seat beside the judge. Everything in this courtroom is intimidating, everything smells like industrial cleaning and leather and he thinks he's going to puke. He can't puke.

Has to keep it together. Has to keep his shit together.

He can't look at the people in the courtroom, can't look at Steve. Definitely can't look at where Pierce is sitting. He puts his hand on the bible to swear in and somehow feels like he's going to be burned by it. He takes a deep breath.

Has to get his shit together.

"Can you state your name for the record?"

"James Buchanan Barnes."

Somehow, his voice doesn't shake. Quill shoots him an encouraging, tiny smile.

"You're a naturalised American citizen James, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"How would you describe your English language skills?"

"Fluent." He does his very best not to mumble into the microphone poking into his face at this point. "I've lived here since I was a teenager."

"So you don't feel the need for an interpreter of any kind?" Quill is just going through the formalities, so Bucky shakes his head. "Would you say there's anything that affects your language skills? Makes you less able to use and understand English?"

"Intoxication." They've rehearsed this part, Bucky knows what he's supposed to say even as it makes him feel ashamed right down to his toes.

"Intoxication." Quill nods and looks over to make sure the jury pays attention to this part. "And what part of your language skills are most affected by intoxication?"

"Reading." Bucky just feels so fucking stupid every time they lay it out like this. Every time he remembers how cocky he'd felt. _Sasha wouldn't put anything bad for me in this, the stupid old man is infatuated with me_. "I can't understand written English when I'm intoxicated."

"Can't understand it. Would make as much sense to you as if I tried to read Cyrillic." It's for the jury's benefit, but Bucky nods anyway. "So when you first encountered the defendant, Alexander Pierce, what was your profession?"

"Stripping. I-I was a stripper." He feels sick. He feels so fucking sick to tell these nice middle-class people in their best clothes all the sordid details of his life.

"And you were working when you met him, is that correct?" Bucky just nods and swallows hard. "Would you say you were intoxicated when you met him?"

"I was always intoxicated when I was working." Bucky makes sure to keep his voice steady, or at least attempt to. "I didn't like the job. It was always easier after a few drinks."

"Could you explain to the jury what the other part of your job was, aside from stripping?"

He's been told to look at the jury at this point, on Quill's cue. Bucky looks up and tries not to chew on his lip and tries not to see anything at all as he fixes his gaze on somewhere between their heads.

"We hosted the clients. Served drinks, sat at tables, gave people attention and made them feel wanted and appreciated."

"Was there a culture of clients buying the staff drinks?"

"Objection!" Pierce's lawyer butts in again and Bucky flinches at the sudden intrusion into his practiced line of questioning. Quill glares at the man but the judge hears him out. "Leading the witness."

"Sustained." The judge gestures to Quill, who sighs and alters his wording.

"Could you describe the culture around client and staff relationships?"

"We had to make them feel welcome." Bucky falters slightly and swallows before he continues. This isn't even the hard part. "We weren't allowed to refuse to sit with someone who asked us, we weren't allowed to refuse a drink that was bought for us. We had to smile and be pleasant and everyone knew that getting felt up under the table was part of the job."

"So there was already a culture highly permissive of non-consensual, sexualised touching?" Quill asks, and Bucky nods with a shaky sigh as he puts things into better words than he ever could. "Could you describe the relationship between yourself and the defendant?"

"He was one of my regulars, he had a thing for my accent and he gave good tips. Great tips." Bucky swallows hard again as he says it. He's definitely going to puke after this. "He always touched me under the table, but he always bought me drinks and tipped well. And everyone was like that, it wasn't unusual."

"So it didn't raise any warning flags with you? It was part of the accepted culture of the working environment." Quill again sums it up for him and Bucky is glad just to nod. "And on the night you signed your first contract for Hydra Pictures, how would you describe the events preceding that signing?"

"Sa- Pierce came to the club, took a table. I did my usual routine and he requested me to come over as usual." Bucky breathes evenly and doesn't look at Pierce and doesn't fucking flinch. "I was sitting at his table for a few hours before he showed me the contract. I didn't know who he was before that."

"And during the time you were sat at his table, those few hours, how many drinks would you say he bought you?"

"I think… I think maybe eight drinks. It got kinda… fuzzy towards the end."

"So the defendant bought you approximately eight drinks, during a time in which you weren't allowed to refuse them, and then presented you with a legal document." Quill holds up his hand before the defence can object again. "Just to clarify."

"Yes, that's correct."

"How intoxicated would you say you were at that point?"

"I don't remember the rest of the night." Bucky admits, cheeks heating up involuntarily in shame. Even Steve doesn't know about how he signed his first contract with Hydra, he's not sure how his boyfriend will take all this. "It's the first time I ever blacked out from drinking in my life. I remember throwing up at some point."

"So you were intoxicated enough to vomit and lose your memory." Bucky nods. "Now, going back to your English language skills. Would you say that level of intoxication is enough to impede your grasp of written English?"

"Definitely." And there's a strength to his voice when he says it, because he knows they're right. "I can't read English after a few beers, I probably couldn't even understand Russian at that point."

"So were you capable of reading and comprehending the legally-binding document Alexander Pierce presented to you and had you sign that night?"

"No. Definitely not."

Quill actually shoots a smirk at the enraged face of the main defence lawyer.

Point one to them.


	24. Face Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note: I am not American and I'm not totally familiar with the American legal system. I have done as much research as my time allows, because actually writing this thing takes up most of that, but I can't guarantee this is going to be completely accurate wrt the court system and procedures etc.

After the first day of the trial, Bucky sleeps under the bed.

It's the only place he feels safe, that's what he tries to explain to Steve while he keeps his eyes screwed shut and tries to breathe evenly with his cheek pressed against the carpet. He remembers hiding from things as a child, being safe in small places like this. Protected by the knowledge that another person couldn't fit in there with him if they tried.

It's either this or the hallway closet, that's his final word on it.

Steve, to his credit, doesn't push too hard. Quill had quietly told him about the pocketknife incident while they were getting ready to leave the courthouse after the trial ended for the day, and he knows Bucky's hanging by a thread right now. So instead of trying to persuade him that he needs some real rest in a real bed (which he does), Steve just gathers up all their spare blankets and pillows and helps Bucky build a nest around himself under the bed.

It helps, a little. It's not like Bucky sleeps, but he manages to doze fitfully a few times throughout the night. He doesn't wake up screaming, and that's something that feels like a victory these days.

The next morning, Bucky goes through his routine like a zombie. He looks like death as much as he acts like it, dark circles under his eyes looking painful and a certain puffiness to his face that only comes with sleeplessness. Steve makes him sit on the couch for fifteen minutes, stop his nervous pottering around the apartment while he drinks the protein shake that Steve's tried very hard to pack with as many nutrients as possible.

There's no point in trying to make him eat, he knows that. Steve's not sure how much of Bucky is going to be left by the end of this, if this is him on only the second day of the trial.

Clint comes by to give them a ride to the courthouse, and when Bucky climbs into the back seat of the car Lucky is waiting for him. Bucky's face immediately loses some of its pallor and he seems to forget about the trial for a few minutes as Lucky climbs all over him and does his best to lick every inch of exposed skin. He buries his face in the dog's fur and squeezes him far too tight, and Lucky just clambers into his lap and doesn't complain at all.

Steve can't remember ever feeling so happy to see a pet in his life. Clint leans over as they pull out into traffic again, speaking quietly when Bucky's distracted.

"How do you guys feel about dog-sitting for the next couple of weeks?"

Steve might actually kiss Clint one of these days.

*

"Could you explain to the court what the Winter Soldier Tapes are?"

He's going to puke. He's seriously going to puke.

Bucky's already gone over the start of his career at Hydra, tried to explain the atmosphere that he knows it's impossible to convey unless it's been experienced first-hand.

It's impossible to explain how totally unacceptable behaviour was so normal there that no one batted an eyelid. That drugs on the set were more common that water and no-condom waivers weren't optional even if they 'were'. Natasha's testimony will help confirm some of it, he knows, but it still feels like he's swimming against the tide. Like he's barely keeping his head above water.

It's been three hours already. It feels like he's spent his entire life in this chair.

"Um… They're a series of porn videos."

"Could you elaborate?"

"A-A series of, um, BDSM-themed videos. Based around a central character."

"What central character?"

"The W-Winter Soldier."

Quill is trying to help him by prompting him, he knows, but Bucky just wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

"And who played that character?"

"I did."

"And did you sign contracts pertaining to the Winter Soldier character?"

"No, just for any material I produced with Hydra pictures. Not the character specifically."

"Could you please tell the jury about any personal involvement Alexander Pierce had with the Winter Soldier Tapes, to the best of your knowledge?" Quill flips through his notes, choosing his words carefully so the defence won't try and shut him down again.

"He… um… To start with, I was just doing normal video shoots. An-And then something would go wrong, and—"

"Could you explain what you mean by 'go wrong'?"

"The guys I was shooting with wouldn't stop when I said stop. Or they'd start doing something I didn't consent to beforehand. It wouldn't be a normal shoot, it would turn into… it wouldn't be consensual."

"So after something like that happened at a shoot, what happened?"

"Afterwards Sa- Pierce would be there. He'd clean me up and take care of me."

"Did this happen frequently?"

"Yes. More and more as time went on."

"And how did these experiences change your relationship with Alexander Pierce?"

"I… He was the only person I could trust. He took care of me when nobody else would." Bucky swallows hard and tries so fucking hard to make his hands stop shaking that he digs his fingernails into his palms hard enough to break skin. "He gave me pills and made everything go away."

"So you came to depend on him?" Bucky chokes out a _yes_ , can't get his breathing right to calm down.

"Very convenient. Very convenient that video shoots under his control turned ugly and put you in a position where he was _conveniently_ there to take care of you. Where he was _conveniently_ framed as your protector." Quill turns to the jury. "Members of the jury will find the definition of 'grooming' on page three of their evidence pack, you may find it relevant here."

_Grooming_.

Grooming happens to children. They're given candy and presents and lulled into a false sense of security. Someone they trust takes advantage of them because they don't know any better, because an adult tells them something is normal and they believe it because they're only a child. Adults aren't supposed to lie to them.

Bucky screws his eyes shut and tries not to cry. He feels so humiliated, all these people knowing that he's nothing more than a helpless, stupid child.

"James? Bucky?"

Quill's voice breaks through his haze, and he opens his eyes slowly. He's still in the court, he's still in front of all these people, he can…

He can still see the unfocused shape of Alexander Pierce over Quill's shoulder.

"Mr Barnes, are you able to continue?"

The judge is looking at him expectantly, and it takes Bucky a long moment to force his frozen muscles to work so he can nod.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry." He sits up straighter and picks up the cup of water in front of him, takes a sip and tries not to let it show how badly his hand is shaking.

Quill watches him worriedly for another moment before professionalism takes over and he continues with his line of questioning. Bucky can't look at the courtroom and pick out Steve, he can't handle that right now.

"To give the jury a sense of what Alexander Pierce would be helping you recover from, could you please tell us about filming one of the Winter Soldier Tapes?"

"I-I can tell you about the first one." Bucky says it like a question, and Quill gestures for him to continue.

Vaguely, Bucky wonders what it's like to hear all this shit from the outside. To have a couple of weeks of your life taken up with the horror story that had been the last five years of his. It must be nice to go home at night and not have to think about it anymore.

"The… The first Tape, I didn't know it was going to be a Tape. There was no Winter Soldier character yet. I thought I was just going to a normal shoot…"

Later on, Bucky will only be able to recall his testimony in snippets.

_Taser._

_Trees._

_Dirt._

_Pushed._

_Pain._

_Alone._

_Cold._

_Sasha._

Mercifully, telling the story is one thing his mind allows him to forget.

Listening from the public gallery, Steve's knuckles turn white.

He never forgets a single word.  

*

"The defence may now question the witness."

"Your honour." Pierce's lawyer stands up with the slickest smile Bucky's ever seen. Greasy little guy, Bucky never paid attention to his name if it was ever given. "We'd like to respectfully request to introduce some evidence with regards to our questioning of this witness."

"Is it necessary for your line of questioning?"

"Yes, your honour."

"Then you may proceed."

Bucky doesn't know what's happening, and his eyes flicker frantically around the courtroom until he finds Steve's face. His boyfriend looks just as worried, but he doesn't even have time to school his expression into something helpful before the courtroom lights dim suddenly.

The projector screen between the jury and judge lights up, and Bucky doesn't even hear it when Quill and Gamora rise at the same time to loudly object. All he can hear is the blood pounding in his ears as the title comes on screen.

_WST#5 – Training the Asset_


	25. Emergency

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in posting, and about being crap at replying to comments. I love and appreciate every single comment and you guys make me super happy, it's just like I said before: these chapters are a bit difficult for me. Posting should get a bit quicker after this point!

Bucky doesn't think he's ever needed a drink more in his life.

"Did you enjoy your time as the Winter Soldier, James?"

"Objection." Quill is standing up before Bucky can even begin to try and formulate an answer. "Your honour, that's a totally inappropriate question. We're talking about sexual assault and –"

"Denied, the defence may continue."

Bucky's bad hand starts shaking.

"I'll repeat, did you enjoy your time as the Winter Soldier?"

"N-No, of course not."

"Then why are you smiling here?"

The defence attorney moves to the next slide of stills from the Winter Soldier Tapes. As it turns out, their request to show portions of the tapes hadn't been approved by the court, but still images were allowed. Showing the opening titles had just been a way to try and psych Bucky out.

He'll admit that it's working.

The screen flips to a freeze frame on his face. He's younger, maybe twenty-one or so, and he doesn't remember shooting this scene. There's come on his face and mud on his cheek where he's been pushed into the dirt. There's a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth where someone's backhanded him to make him behave.

He can't do this.

"I-I… They told me to."

"They told you to?" He steps closer and Bucky can't help flinching away. "Don't you think you'd be beyond following such an instruction if you'd just been brutally sexually assaulted, as you claim?"

"I-I…"

"Why aren't you fighting back? In the previous slide we've seen you willingly fall to your knees on command, how is that not consent?"

"The guy off-camera has a fucking taser!"

"Mr Barnes, can I remind you about your language?" The judge cuts in with his booming voice and Bucky shrinks away from him with a nod.

"I'm sorry."

The defence attorney doesn't even let him collect his thoughts, firing right back in with his question.

"So you have no excuse for why you're smiling in this picture, despite your claims of being sexually assaulted moments before?"

Bucky forces himself to look at the image again. He feels so fucking bad for the strung-out kid he sees there, can hardly believe that it's him in the picture. He feels so stupid, so unbelievably stupid for getting himself into that situation and not…

Then it comes to him: he was strung-out.

"Ecstasy."

The lawyer pauses. Quill looks up from his notes in surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"That's why I'm smiling in the picture." He points with a shaky hand. "Look at my pupils, they're blown wide open. The guys at Hydra would dose me with stuff to make me co-operate, aphrodisiacs or whatever, or downers to make me behave. Opiates give you pinprick pupils, ecstasy blows them wide. Of course I'm smiling there, I'm full of drugs that make me think any physical contact is awesome."

The man flounders for a response for a second, and it's just enough to give Bucky an opening.

"I guarantee if you watch that tape you'll see the same thing. Any example of consent that you think you've found is because of drugs. My movement is uncoordinated, my speech is slurred, and my pupils are wide open."

"There's no way to prove that you didn't take the drugs willingly." The lawyer finally gets back on track, finds his way back in. "Your addiction issues are well-documented. We have proof of your various stays in rehabilitation centres."

"That's true. But you also can't prove that I did take the drugs willingly. And I'm telling you that I didn't."

Bucky finally raises his head and searches out Steve in the courtroom. He doesn't dare smile or change his expression, isn't sure he could if he wanted to, but he could swear Steve looks proud.

"I didn't freely consent to anything in that tape, and being out of my mind on pills is just another reason why I couldn't."

*

Bucky throws up three times while the court is in recess.

"Are you okay in there?"

There's a soft knock on the stall door, someone holding back their strength and being considerate. Not Quill, then.

"Yeah." His voice is shaky, rough, and Bucky curses himself because he knows Pierce will be able to hear that he's puked when he goes back into court. He'll know that his tactics are working.

"You need some water?"

"Please." He tries not to gag again as he thinks about Pierce. The bathroom door swings shut and he's alone again.

He only pukes once more until he can't do anything but gag. It's not like there's much left to come up except coffee and bile anyway.

Clint is back when he opens the stall door, holding out a bottle of water. Lucky is sitting beside him, wearing his therapy animal vest and all his tags, and Bucky pets the dog gratefully as he takes the water. He didn't know his friend had been waiting outside the courtroom, and he's more than glad of it.

"Steve would be here, but uh…"

"I told him it's okay if it gets to him." Bucky mumbles, moving over to the sinks to swish water around his mouth and try to feel like a human again.

"Yeah, I think he's puking in one bathroom and you're puking in the other." Clint makes a face.

"I figured."

Bucky grimaces when he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, he looks like a fucking vampire. The dark circles under his eyes look like he's been punched twice, and there are pinprick bruises forming on his eyelids from where he's screwed them tight while throwing up.

Pierce's team won't have to do anything to convince the jury he's still a junkie if he doesn't start looking less like a corpse sometime soon.

"Here." Clint is poking him in the arm with a protein bar, and Bucky looks at him sceptically in the mirror. "I don't care if you like it. If you pass out on the stand then everything's gonna suck even harder _and_ Nat and Steve are gonna be on your ass."

Bucky huffs out a disgruntled breath but he takes the bar anyway. He leans his back against the sinks as he unwraps it and takes a reluctant bite under Clint's watchful gaze.

"Y'know, I'm not averse to just shooting the guy."

The words are muttered, spoken offhand, but Bucky still jerks like he's been given an electric shock. He looks across at Clint with wide eyes, but his friend is being very careful to look as casual as possible.

"Don't… Please don't say that."

"Okay." Clint shrugs, still _super_ casual. "Just saying. He deserves it."

Bucky's words die in his throat before he can even make sense of what he wants to say. He doesn't know how to explain that he hates Pierce, he's scared of Pierce, and the sight of the man makes him sick, but the thought of him not being around feels… scary. Sasha still means safety, somewhere in his head.

Maybe he's not as over it as he thought.

*

When the court resumes, Pierce's team have regrouped and they're back on the offensive.

There's no way they're trying to do anything but psych Bucky out, and it's still working. Pierce must have a pretty good idea of where Bucky's triggers lie, at least the ones he put there on purpose, and his team are doing their best to hit them all.

They play a short section of audio from the tape, Bucky's voice and the voices of the men who'd hurt him. He doesn't flinch. They question him about his sexual preferences outside of the tapes, trying to shame him, and that doesn't work either. They try to shame him for continuing to work in porn after Hydra, but Tony's team knew this was coming and they've prepared Bucky for it.

None of their tactics work, and Bucky is just starting to feel like maybe he can white-knuckle his way through to the end of his testimony without losing his mind.

Then they bring out the big guns.

"Can you describe the circumstances in which you initially injured your left arm?"

Bucky's breath hitches. Fuck. He's withstood the tide so far, but this is every black thing that's ever happened to him crashing over him in waves. Steve doesn't even know this part, he's never had to explain to his boyfriend exactly how his arm got fucked up in the first place.

He tells people he was in a car crash. The only person he's still in contact with who knows the truth is Natasha.

That's all about to change.

"Hydra encouraged us to take escorting jobs –"

"I would like to remind the jury that there is absolutely no evidence that Hydra Pictures has anything to do with its performers taking part in escorting. Which, for clarity, is another name for prostitution. Is that correct, James?"

"Yes."

"So you injured your arm initially whilst prostituting yourself?"

"With a client Hydra set up and promised me was safe!" Bucky can't help getting worked up again, he feels like his mind is coming apart at the seams here, he's not in control anymore and all of his words are being twisted.

He makes the mistake of glancing at the jury. There's a certain kind of hidden disgust in their expressions that he's used to noticing, used to pretending doesn't bother him. He wants to break down and cry and yell at them all that he's _not lying_.

He feels like he's fracturing.

"Which is entirely conjecture. We're looking for the facts." The lawyer can't keep the smirk out of his eyes even as his expression stays carefully neutral. "Please, tell us how your arm came to be injured."

"The… The client got violent. He beat me, tied me up, and left me there. My arm lost circulation and they had to operate to save it."

"Did you have health insurance at that time?"

"No."

"So who paid for that operation?"

"A-Alexander Pierce."

They've got him. Bucky makes the mistake of finally looking across at where Pierce is sitting.

He's smiling.

"And who generously paid for your subsequent physiotherapy?"

Bucky drops his head. There's no point in fighting, that's how he feels now. There's no point in trying to explain that Pierce used the medical bills as leverage to keep him with Hydra. No point in trying to tell them that Pierce used his fucked-up arm to control him, made it worse when he wanted to keep Bucky helpless.

No point in fighting. Might as well roll over now.

They're only looking for facts.

"Alexander Pierce."

*

The flask of vodka taped to the back of the toilet tank in his apartment is for emergencies. That's what Bucky promised himself when he'd put it there when he was still shaky about being sober. It's only for when things are totally FUBAR, when he doesn't have another choice.

He's pretty sure this is the kind of emergency he'd been worried about.

Bucky waits until Steve is asleep before he locks the bathroom door and carefully retrieves the flask. He silently toasts his fucked up life before he takes a swig.

If it wasn't already an emergency, it is now.


	26. Cherry Bomb

It takes Bucky ten minutes to find a guy outside a club who'll sell him Oxys. Being that it's nearly 3am, he's half-cut, and he had to avoid a very nosy service dog to leave the apartment, he thinks that's pretty impressive.

The one thing he's good at, except for sex, is substance abuse. He almost laughs at how ridiculous his life is. But sex is pretty much ruined for him now, someone took that away from him, and so there's a part of his brain that thinks indignantly _why shouldn't I have something that I'm good at?_

He doesn't intend to take the Oxys, that's what he promises himself feverishly as he pays for a fifth of vodka at the liquor store and tries not to look as shifty as he feels. The booze and pills are just a safety net, so he knows he has something to catch him if everything goes south. He needs the reassurance, the knowledge that he _could_ get out of his mind if things become unbearable.

He knows Steve won't see it that way. Bucky leaves the bag outside the apartment when he sneaks back in, until he's sure Steve is still sleeping soundly and not about to wake up and catch him. Lucky is still sitting there awake, looking up when Bucky comes in like he doesn't understand what Bucky's doing and he's not sure what to do in this situation. Bucky pats the dog's head sympathetically, he's not sure what he's doing either.

Adrenaline singing in his veins, he retrieves his stuff and stashes it in his best hiding place: behind the false side that boxes in their crappy bathtub. Steve doesn't even know it comes off, his secret emergency supplies are safe.

Bucky's too wired to sleep, but he lies down beside Steve anyway because his boyfriend will wake up if he's gone for too long. Steve reaches for him in his sleep and Bucky lets himself be tugged to rest against a strong chest. He's used to being manhandled.

"You 'kay?" Steve's voice is heavy with sleep, he sounds like he's just on the very edge of consciousness.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Go back to sleep." He presses a kiss to Steve's chest and his boyfriend makes a soft sound of assent.

Bucky lies awake and stares at the bathroom door.

He's fine, he's sure of it, but he doesn't sleep.

*

Bucky's final day of giving evidence passes in a haze.

Quill and Gamora meet with him beforehand, make sure he knows that they think he's done a fantastic job so far and that they're proud of how well he's kept it together. They tell him that he's given them enough to figure out a line of questioning when Pierce takes the stand, that they think they can twist around everything the defence has tried to use to make Pierce look altruistic. Bucky just nods vaguely, numb.

Quill is concerned, but he bites his tongue and doesn't ask. They need Bucky to keep it together until he's finished testifying, he doesn't want to poke the bear before that.

Bucky ducks into the bathroom before court starts, locking himself in a stall. He swigs vodka from his flask until his hands are still, just enough to steady his nerves and very careful not to drink enough for it to be noticeable. If he's drunk on the stand then they're fucked. This is fortifying, not intoxicating.

He washes his mouth out and crunches up a few mints before he's ready to face the world. No one will be able to tell that he's leaning on a crutch to stay upright. He walks into court with his head held high.

Pierce's defence do everything they can to break him down, one final push. They're dropping trigger words left and right now, asking him to repeat _exactly_ what he alleges Pierce said to him on various occasions so he has to hear it out loud. _Sweetheart, Jakov, pet._

Bucky doesn't crack. A little alcohol in his veins always made an unpleasant job easier, that's the one thing he knows for sure in all this. That and the fact that he's _not lying_.

But they trip him up. They make him talk in circles until he's not sure his memories are even real anymore. Gamora interrupts and talks about gaslighting, makes points about learned helplessness and being coerced into not trusting your own memory. She brings up the toxicology report they've already discussed, from when Bucky's blood was tested by the police after he went missing for three days. None of the drugs they found were recreational, but they would be useful for keeping a person docile and confused, obedient and forgetful. Reliant on someone else.

Bucky doesn't say anything. He lets the lawyers hash over the ground they've already covered and doesn't look at Pierce. He looks at his hands and wishes he wasn't here.

"Your honour." Gamora cuts into the discussion, standing up smoothly without even bothering to glance at the defence attorney. "This is aggressive questioning of a vulnerable witness and it's not bringing any new information to the case. The defence team has repeatedly emphasised that they are only concerned with facts, and I would suggest that they've got all the facts they can from this witness and it's unnecessary to continue in this vein."

"Does the defence have any further questions?" Judge Ronan turns to Pierce's lawyer, who exchanges a look with his boss before he responds.

"No further questions, your honour."

"Then you may step down, Mr Barnes."

Bucky's legs are like jelly when he moves, and it takes all his energy and concentration to make it back to his seat without stumbling. The court calls a recess before the next witness comes to the stand, since it's past lunchtime, and moments after the break is called Bucky finds himself pulled into a crushing hug.

"You did it, Buck." Steve is hugging him so tight it almost hurts, and Bucky can't help but bring his arms up and squeeze him back.

He did it, he got through it without breaking down on the stand. So why does it feel like he hasn't achieved anything at all?

"Hey, you did an awesome job Bucky." Quill's hand is on his shoulder when Steve pulls away, and the guy is genuinely smiling at Bucky. "It might take a little while to hit you that it's over, don't worry if it feels kinda like an anti-climax."

Bucky just nods, he can't speak. The people around him are his friends but he feels like he's suffocating, trapped in the middle of this huddle. Steve sees him start to shake and puts his arm gently around his boyfriend's shoulders.

"Okay, c'mon. Let's get you somewhere better than this to crash." He figures it's the adrenaline and anxiety finally catching up with Bucky, figured he'd plummet back down to earth after his evidence was finished. Steve turns to Quill quickly. "Does he need to be here for the next witness?"

"No, he just has to be nearby in case we need him again." Bucky can hear them talking, but it's like he's underwater. "Natasha doesn't want him in here for her testimony, anyway. Either of you."

Bucky's sure Steve questions that, because the one way to make the guy do something is tell him he can't, but he doesn't hear it. He grabs Steve's arm warningly with his good hand, and then they're walking out of the courtroom. Sam is waiting outside for them, Lucky sitting obediently beside him. The dog starts rubbing against Bucky's legs and whining immediately, and that's his warning for an impending panic attack.

"I think we could use some air." Steve takes Lucky's leash from Sam with a quiet thanks and presses it into Bucky's good hand, and Bucky feels the same little jolt of surprise that he always does at being trusted to be in charge of something.

"There's a sandwich cart outside." Sam suggests. "Y'know. If you guys eat that sort of thing."

"I could eat." Steve glances across at Bucky, fully expecting him to shake his head.

"Me too." The quiet answer comes as a surprise, but a welcome one.

Bucky can testify against Alexander Pierce, he's pretty sure he can handle a sandwich.

*

Natasha Romanov is a force of nature. She's also extremely smart and calculating.

Quill is just glad she's on their side, or he'd be terrified right about now.

Once they get the initial questioning out of the way, establishing why she's on the stand and how she knows all the players involved, it's time to bring out the big guns.

"Ms Romanov, could you please talk us through the physical evidence you're presenting today?"

"Of course."

Natasha waits for the lights to dim and the projector screen to come to life again. She has good reasons for not wanting Bucky or Steve in the room during her testimony, because despite what people think of her she's far from unfeeling. As the first picture lights up the screen, she's exceptionally glad that even stubborn Steve listened to her request this time.

She doesn't want either of them to have to see this.

"Can you explain what we're looking at?" Quill prompts her, handing Natasha the laser pointer he's been using throughout the trial.

The picture of Bucky's face isn't the most horrifying she has in the collection she's presenting, but it's still not a pretty sight. He's younger, thinner, and his lip is bleeding while his left eye is beginning to swell. His cheek is scratched up from where it's been ground into the dirt.

She's just glad Bucky was always too out of it to remember her taking these.

"This is a photograph of James Barnes on October eighth, four years ago. The date in the corner is accurate." She indicates with the pointer. "This was taken in the locker room at Hydra Pictures Studios after the filming of the fifth Winter Soldier Tape."

"And can you prove where the picture was taken?"

She clicks through to the next slide, a few people standing with their arms around each other with their faces blurred out. They're not part of this.

"This is from the Hydra Pictures twitter feed, taken in the locker room three days ago." She brings the pictures up beside each other and points out the similarities: the sickly green walls, the layout, the tentacle logo on the lockers. "Same room."

"How many of these pictures do you have?"

"Twenty-three, where the location can be verified. About twenty more where it can't."

"And do they all document injuries received by Mr Barnes?"

"Most of them."

"And why did you decide to start taking these pictures?"

"James is my friend." Natasha is the opposite of Bucky, she stares Pierce right in the face as she explains her motivations. "I was concerned about the way he was being treated, about what I'd witnessed being done to him. But I knew what our contracts were like at Hydra, I knew he'd need some kind of physical evidence for leverage if he ever wanted to try and get out."

"Can you talk us through the rest of the pictures?" Quill is forever grateful that Natasha is on their side, because she's a one-woman army. She just might win this case for them all on her own.

"Would you like me to describe what I witnessed before the picture first?" She asks, one eyebrow arched delicately. "Or verify the location of the picture and _then_ explain what happened?"

It's grim, but Quill smiles.

The rest of the pictures are increasingly gruesome. A boot print clear on Bucky's ribs. Needle marks on his neck. The aftermath of the crappy tattoo job of the red star on his shoulder. _Slut_ and _Fag_ written on his face in sharpie. Clumsy Cyrillic words scratched into his inner thighs.

Natasha coolly offers to translate. The judge assures her that won't be necessary.

Pierce's team had been sure they had no physical evidence of what Hydra had done to Bucky, but they hadn't counted on Natasha. She's notorious for not trusting anyone, for making sure she has the resources she needs to keep herself and her friends safe. She couldn't protect Bucky then, but she sure as hell will now.

She's about to blow this whole trial wide open, and she's going to relish doing it.


	27. Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, personal trouble writing as usual. Already started the next chapter though.

Natasha's testimony lasts for a day. The defence try to trip her up on cross-examination but she holds firm. Things are looking pretty bad for Pierce by the time she leaves the stand.

Except that the defence still has their ace in the hole to come: Pierce himself.

Bucky stays out of court for Natasha's testimony. He stays away for Brock Rumlow, Nicky Fury, and Dr Erskine. After almost losing it when he'd finished giving evidence, he's actually doing a lot better at keeping himself together now. Maybe it's the catharsis of getting all the poison he's been hiding out in the open, maybe it's the fact that's he's doing a really good job of secretly medicating himself calm.

Steve broaches the subject of what happened to his arm carefully, not wanting to rake everything up again. Bucky just apologises for not telling him sooner.

"What happened to the guy? The client?" Steve just wants to know that at least one person who hurt Bucky has been punished for it.

"No idea." Bucky shrugs, blankly. "Sasha said I didn't need to worry about that."

Steve goes to the gym to burn off some of his rage. Bucky locks himself in the bathroom and gets high enough to feel calm but not enough so his boyfriend will be able to tell. They each have their own way of dealing with things, some more destructive than others.

He starts laughing to himself out of nowhere, as he listens to Lucky whining on the other side of the door. The drugs are kicking in and he's hiding from a dog because he feels judged for fucking up. He's truly a car-crash of a human being.

*

Steve's pretty sure it's a really, really bad idea to be in court while Alexander Pierce testifies, but Bucky's determined. Bucky wants to look him in the eye and show Pierce that he isn't afraid of him anymore.

"You know he's gonna tell a pack of lies, right? And they're probably gonna believe some of them? You know this is gonna make you angry and—"

"Yeah, Steve. I know. I'm not a child." Bucky snaps in response, cutting him off. Steve blinks, because even when Bucky's worked up he's not usually aggressive.

There's a moment's pause before Bucky lets out a shaky breath and turns to Steve apologetically.

"Sorry." He mumbles. "Just… I know it's gonna suck, but I have to do it. I'm more capable than you think."

"I didn't say you weren't capable." Steve chooses his words carefully and leaves it at that. Because he still thinks this is a shitty idea but Bucky's right, he's not his keeper.

Pierce's evidence is so predictable that they could have made it up themselves. He's telling the jury exactly what they expect to hear, that his interests in Bucky were purely altruistic and it's unfortunate that, unbeknownst to him, some of Bucky's shoots got out of hand.

"And the people involved were immediately fired from Hydra Pictures when this information came to light." He insists, and the regret in his voice almost sounds genuine. "I only wish James had spoken up sooner, we could have prevented everything if he'd just _said_ something."

Bucky's knuckles are white and bloodless as he clenches his hands into fists. He's not holding Steve's hand, not even touching him, because he doesn't think he could handle that right now. He needs to ground himself, he needs to get through this _himself_.

"Are you married, Mr Pierce?"

"I was."

Bucky's head shoots up and he stares at Pierce, shock driving all thoughts from his mind and his heartbeat starting to pound loudly in his ears.

"My wife passed away ten years ago."

"Would you describe yourself as being at all sexually attracted to men?"

"No, not at all." He has the audacity to smile slightly, and Bucky wants to die. "I'm straight."

And just like that, the little pinprick of doubt in the prosecution's version of events starts to widen.

Getting Bucky drunk to sign a contract?

"I was under the impression that these establishments didn't serve alcohol to their staff. He didn't seem drunk."

The genre of the Winter Soldier Tapes?

"We do extensive market research to decide what we film. My job isn't to judge what people want to see, it's to produce it. We have all the consent waivers James signed, it was his responsibility to say something if he was uncomfortable."

Drugs on set?

"It's an ongoing issue in every part of the entertainment industry. We have strict policies in place about sobriety during filming, but unfortunately we can't always prevent someone from filming if they choose to take drugs without our knowledge."

Paying for Bucky's medical bills, despite the imbalance of power it created?

"What could I do, leave him with crippling debt on top of being injured? I felt sorry for him and I was in a position to help, I never thought it would be misconstrued like this."

The killing blow is a horrible one, Pierce's words a live thing that slithers into Bucky's chest and squeezes all the air out of his lungs.

"Why do you think James would make these allegations against you?"

"The poor boy is an addict, that's the bottom line. If he gets a conviction here then it'll be very easy for him to sue me." Then everything gets worse. "And I'm afraid there may be an element of revenge at play."

"Can you elaborate?"

"Well I hate to embarrass him, but… James tried to approach me sexually on a number of occasions and I turned him down." Pierce makes a face, like he wasn't the guy who forced Bucky to beg for his dick. "I think he may partially be trying to get back at me for rejecting him."

Bucky almost, _almost_ blacks out. He doesn't know how much time he loses, how long he's blank for, before there's a recess being called and Steve is hustling him out of the courtroom.

"…knew this was a terrible idea." Bucky checks back in fully when he's sitting on the courthouse steps, Steve's hands tight on his shoulders. "Buck, you with me?"

"Yeah." He bats Steve's hands away and Steve watches him with concern. He's not acting like himself today, not even slightly.

"C'mon, we'll go home."

"I don't wanna go home yet."

"Bucky…" Steve takes a breath, starting to get frustrated, and that just riles Bucky up more. He feels itchy and irritable and just wants to push everyone away until they leave him the fuck alone.

It's been a while since he last took a pill, he realises. Well, shit.

"You're not in a good place right now, I can see from here that you're gonna crash and–"

"So I'll crash. I'll deal with it."

"Bucky—"

"I'll deal with it all by myself." He pushes himself to his feet with only a slight waver and shoves his hands into the pockets of his (Steve's) hoodie. Steve follows him, and Bucky's jaw clenches. The guy just never knows when to stay down.

"Buck, what's wrong?" He puts his hand on Bucky's elbow and Bucky wrenches his arm away, the force surprising even himself. "You're acting weird."

"What's wrong?" He turns around, eyes hard as ice. "I'm so mad I can't see straight, that's what's wrong."

People are turning to look at them as Bucky's voice gets louder, but he can't bring himself to care right now. Thousands of people already paid to see him abused over the internet, why shouldn't he give them another show?

"I saw the jury, Steve. They believe him, they think I'm some random junkie who begged him for sex and got pissy when he wouldn't fuck me. He's gonna get away with everything he did and just keep walking around living his life, and I'm so fuckin' mad!"

"We knew this was a possibility." Steve is clearly cringing over Bucky making a scene, his voice low and his hands held up in an effort to placate him. "We knew—"

"Yeah, we knew! And I'm still fuckin' mad about it! I'm _allowed_ to be mad instead of just sitting here _accepting_ everything that happens to me!" Bucky's gesturing wildly now, not giving a shit who hears him. "He's not a force of nature that couldn't be prevented, he's a _person_ and he _choose_ to do that shit to me! And now I'm so fucked up I can't even handle my own life, and he gets to go around like nothing happened!"

"Bucky…" Whatever Steve was going to say dies in his throat as Bucky turns on his heel and starts stalking away from the courthouse. "Hey, come back!"

Bucky keeps walking until the busy sidewalk swallows him up. He wishes the ground would do the same.


	28. I've Got No Strings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very important chapter in terms of a turning point for Bucky. 
> 
> Also Clint Barton is a national treasure.

"Clint? I wanna kill a guy."

Clint has never got a phone call at three in the morning that he liked.

This is no exception.

"Barnes?" He sits up in bed and winces as he turns his hearing aid to a different setting to handle the cell phone. He got off shift at the club only a couple of hours ago, must have forgotten to take his ears out before he fell into bed. "You know what time it is?"

"I need you to help me kill a guy, okay?" Bucky's slurring, but he's still pretty understandable when he speaks. "I dunno how to kill people and this guy needs to get dead."

"You really ain't the cheeriest person at three in the morning, huh?" Clint rubs his eyes and starts to get his wits about him, still disoriented by Lucky not being right there to turn on the lights when he wakes up at night. "Where are you? Where's Steve?"

"Steve's off jackin' his star-spangled dick, I dunno." Bucky sounds exasperated, and Clint is already forcing his creaking body out of bed way too early. There isn't enough coffee in the world for this. "I'm at that Irish bar near Shield."

"McGinty's? Why'd you go there?" Clint doesn't bother asking if he's drinking, because that much is clear in his friend's voice. He's been expecting the relapse for a while now, after the state Bucky was in the last time he saw him, so it's not exactly a shock.

"'Cause that's where the Shield guys go after work, and they _hate_ the Winter Soldier."

Well, that's something Clint has kind of been waiting for too. He's known Bucky long enough to know exactly what he does when he's feeling shitty and he gets enough booze in him.

"You been fighting?"

"I been _losing_."

"Alright, m'coming to get you." The unusually long phone call is making his head ache, he still can't find a decent M4 phone with a good speech to text function and long calls piss him off on this one. "Don't go anywhere."

"I'll be good." He can hear the smirk in Bucky's voice and it breaks his godamn heart. "I'm really good at being _good_ , if you want me to be."

"Just don't move. And don't suck any dicks." Clint's head is throbbing by the time he finally hangs up.

Not enough coffee in the _world_ for this.

All he can think about are those months after Hydra when Bucky slept in the spare bedroom, slowly coming back to himself. They'd be doing the dishes or watching TV, hanging out doing nothing triggering, and suddenly there would be this shift in his friend. Bucky's voice would take on a different register, something lower, and his awkward movements would suddenly become smooth as silk. Then Clint would have about a minute to try and redirect him out of it before Bucky started trying to get into his pants.

Whatever bullshit mind-control crap Pierce was working with, it did a number on Bucky. Reverting to what they'd started to refer to as his 'programming', could take different forms. Seduction was one, another was reflexively offering to thank someone with sexual favours for the smallest thing. And once Clint swore Bucky had called him 'daddy' in a small, scared voice, but he's never brought it up since because there are some things he thinks his friend deserves not to remember.

Over the phone he'd heard type number one: seduction. That's not something that feels safe in one of the scummier bars they know of, full of people who work in porn. People who work in porn and have a grudge against the Winter Soldier for abandoning Shield for Hydra.

Clint's already out of the door before he lets himself think about it too hard. It's not something he wants on the inside of his eyelids, let alone in real life.

When he reaches the bar he doesn't have to look far for his friend. Bucky is sitting slumped against the damp wall outside, hair hanging in his face and obscuring some of the bruising that Clint can already see starting to swell.

"Buck?" He approaches with caution, looking around to make sure there are no assholes trying to pick a fight with him, too.

There's a pretty decent knife in the pocket of his purple hoodie, he really doesn't want to have to use it tonight.

"I've been thinkin' about puppets." Bucky's voice is quiet, and even Clint can hear from this distance that he's _wasted_. "People pulling their strings."

Clint raises his eyebrows but doesn't say anything. Once Phil had pulled him out of Tehran and he'd been so dehydrated he'd been rambling about the circus, thinking his then-handler was his brother Barney. He knows your mind can go weird places when it's hanging by a thread, he's not going to judge.

"'Cause I'm not… I'm not the Winter Soldier anymore. M'a real boy now." Bucky slurs, and Clint's not sure he sounds entirely happy about it.

"O-kay…"

"I had strings, but now I'm free." There's blood gleaming through his teeth when he smiles up at Clint dopily. Someone's definitely done a number on him. "There are no strings on me."

"That's… creepy." Clint pulls a face and leans down to hooks his arms around Bucky's chest and pull him up. His friend grunts in pain and Clint adjusts his hold slightly once he gets Bucky's feet under him, there must be bruises on his ribs. "You been fighting to lose or what?"

"Feels better than winning."

"Anyone we know?"

"Nah. Place has changed a lot since we left."

He can stand on his own after adjusting to the change of position for a few seconds, but he doesn't pull away from Clint. Clint is the one who steadies him and steps back slightly, keeping his arms out in case Bucky stumbles. In this state, there's no telling which touch will freak Barnes out or make him start trying to get Clint to fuck him, and both of those are things he really wants to avoid.

"I gotta puke."

"Go ahead. But I'm not holding your hair back, man. I'm not your boyfriend and that's _totally_ a disgusting boyfriend-only job."

"You're a terrible drunk-handler. I forgot how much you suck at this." Bucky grumbles, clumsily scooping his hair back with the elastic around his wrist before taking a few steps along the wall and sticking his fingers down his throat.

"In my defence, I'm usually the drunk being handled."

Clint keeps his eyes on the street as Bucky throws up, because a) the last thing his friend needs is to get public intoxication on his record, and b) puke is disgusting. He turns back when the gross sounds stop, to see Bucky swigging from a bottle and then spitting when he's swished whatever was in it around his mouth.

"Did you just wash your mouth out with vodka? Seriously, fuckin' Russians." His snarking quickly dies when Bucky loses his balance again and Clint has to reach out to steady him. "Woah, hey. Think you're done throwing up?"

"Yeah. Didn't eat." The response is mumbled, and Clint rolls his eyes.

"I swear to fuck I'm gonna slap some sense into you one of these days, Barnes." He tugs Bucky's good arm over his shoulder to make moving him easier. "C'mon big guy, let's get you home."

"Don't… Not to Steve, please?" Bucky lifts his lolling head and he looks totally broken behind his clouded eyes. "He doesn't know."

"If he asks me, I'm not gonna lie." With that warning, Clint tacitly agrees to keep Bucky's relapsing a secret for the moment. Bucky slumps gratefully onto his shoulder and his friend bundles him into the passenger seat of his car without any resistance.

"Sasha gave evidence today."

One minute. They made it one minute of peace before the whole thing started tumbling out from between split lips. It's a good thing, Clint's fairly sure, that Bucky isn't clamming up about what's upset him. Still, he winces at the words all the same.

"They're gonna believe him. He's good at pulling everyone's strings. He's gonna get away with everything."

"You don't know that for sure." Clint points out, trying to keep some steadiness to the conversation.

"I'm crazy, Barton. I'm not stupid. He's gonna get off." Bucky lets his head fall into his hands, overgrown hair obscuring his pallid face again. "I fuckin' hate being like this, no one pulling my strings while everyone else is dancing to his tune. It was so much easier to just not fuckin' think about it…"

"Bucky…" Clint glances away from the road for a moment to check on his friend. "You don't mean that shit."

"I do!" The raised voice is new, and Clint notices the aggression in the same surprised way Steve had. "I know what I think now and I _hate it_. Everything was easier when I didn't have to _think_ , I just had to _do_."

"Look, I remember what that feels like too." Clint attempts to reason with him, because Bucky is starting to get agitated and they're in a moving vehicle. "But that's not how life works. That guy fucked you up, you don't have to let that become the be-all and end-all of who you are."

"You don't get it." Bucky is rounding on him suddenly, straining against the seatbelt Clint's very glad he'd strapped over him and tapping the side of his head forcefully. "He's right here, all the time. And today I realised that he's _never_ going away, and I'm so fuckin' _pissed_!"

He twists around and slams his fist into the dashboard, and although Clint is mightily fucking concerned about his poor car, he doesn't stop him. Bucky slams his knuckles into the dash a few more times before the red mist clears, and he's left sitting with his chest heaving and a new pain in his knuckles.

"Beating the hell outta my car make you feel better?" Clint asks, quietly. "Want me to pull over so you can hit me? You finally sick of just lying there taking the punches, so you're gonna give some now?"

"Shut up."

"No, you fuckin' listen to me." Clint doesn't raise his voice, just keeps the same firm tone as Bucky studiously doesn't look at him. "Being angry at him is better than being angry at yourself. That guy stole your _life_ , Barnes. You didn't deserve a fuckin' second of it, you should be pissed."

"I…"

"I want you to forget about all the bullshit people have told you." A little heat finally slips into Clint's voice, but he has it under control. "You don't have to forgive him, you never have to stop being mad as hell. You never have to roll over and just accept that something like that happened to you. But you have to let all that rage out sometimes, because otherwise it's gonna eat you alive. You ain't gotta be passive anymore."

Bucky doesn't say anything, but his head is up now and he's staring at Clint with wide eyes. Sure, maybe this isn't the therapy-mandated way of dealing with things, but Clint is fucking sick of the forgiveness narrative being touted as the only path to recovery. It isn't, he knows that for himself, and he's not going to let his friend set himself on fire because it's easier for other people to deal with.

"Breaking something or punching me is a lot better than hurting yourself. Drinking yourself to death and hacking chunks out of yourself because you feel some kind of bullshit misplaced guilt over what happened to you is exactly what Pierce would want. He kept you scared, you don't have to be fuckin' scared anymore."

There's a long moment of silence between them before Bucky speaks, quietly.

"He… He's the guy I wanted to kill." He says it like he's afraid Pierce will hear him.

"Bucky, I'd kill him for you myself." Clint says it completely seriously, meeting his friend's eyes straight on. "Because you're never gonna be scared like that again. I swear to God."

Bucky swallows hard and nods, because the sentiment behind Clint's words finally gets through to him. He's finally starting to realise that he doesn't have to just accept this, he doesn't have to be scared of feeling. Nothing is going to happen to him if he actually lets himself feel the rage he's been trying to kill for so long.

No one is coming to punish him, and he's done punishing himself for someone else's crime.

"Y'know, I'm pretty sure this is a good thing." Clint's tone is slightly more conversational now, as they pull up outside his house.

"How the fuck is it a good thing?" Bucky's voice is cracked, but it's not shaking.

"Because you're kinda sounding more like yourself again." Clint muses. "I've seen you broken and sad and beaten down over what happened, but I've never seen you mad about it until tonight. And you're mad at Pierce, not yourself. Pretty sure that's progress."

"I'm drunk." And he's going to get in so much shit for it, he's sure, but his friend doesn't seem worried.

"Shit happens." Clint shrugs. "Rather have you drunk and mad than sober and so afraid you can't do anything. He's not in charge of you anymore, Buck."

The ghost of a smile twitches at the bruised corner of Bucky's mouth.

"There are no strings on me."


	29. Walking is Still Honest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, folks. My partner was visiting and I was busy with life and all that bullshit. Expect updates to come more frequently now.

"You look like the walking wounded."

Sam is, as always, as blunt as he is supportive.

"I feel like the walking dead." Steve groans, dropping onto his friend's couch wearily.

"This thing's really put you through the wringer, huh?" Sam grimaces sympathetically, patting Steve on the shoulder on his way past to the kitchen.

Sam and Natasha's place has always been something of an oasis for Steve, a little break from the storm that the rest of his life has become. He feels kind of guilty to see his best friend as a refuge, and he's pretty sure he hasn't done anything but take from Sam's generosity for a long time, but whenever he tries to say anything to that effect Sam just slaps him on the back of the head and tells him to shut up. He and Natasha are better suited for each other than any of their friends had imagined.

"The verdict's tomorrow. Thank God." Steve rubs a hand over his face to try and wake himself up, try and stay in the present moment the way he keeps nagging his boyfriend to. "Dunno how much longer we could have taken this shit."

"How's he doing?"

"Not great. Not as bad as he was, but not great." He sits up straighter to take the coffee Sam offers him with a grateful noise. "I'm afraid he's gonna lose it when the verdict comes in."

"Not looking good?" Sam's forehead creases in sympathy, and Steve makes a mental note to do something really awesome to thank his friend for being here once this is all over. He would have lost his mind if he didn't have someone to vent to.

"The lawyers think the most Pierce's likely to get is a slap on the wrist for having an unsafe workplace. They can't prove anything else beyond reasonable doubt, and his people have created plenty of that. The jury are pretty firmly on his side." Steve sighs quietly. "I dunno how to tell Bucky."

"Why don't you just wait for the verdict to come in? You never know, maybe you'll get a better result than you expect." Sam can't stand the defeated slump of his friend's shoulders, is starting to agree with Clint that just shooting Pierce would have been the best solution for everybody.

"I'm not holding my breath." Steve rubs his hands over his hair and looks for all the world like he should be asleep right now. "I hate it, Sam. He tried so hard and he was so brave, and nothing's gonna come of it. I wanted better than this for him."

"Not your call, man." Sam reaches over and pats Steve on the knee. He's been big on physical contact since Bucky hasn't, and it's just another thing that Steve owes him for. "You both did your best, that's all you can do."

After that, Steve lets Sam steer the conversation onto happier topics, trying to take his mind off things. He appreciates the effort, but his treacherous mind isn't going anywhere except thinking about last night. He'd woken up halfway when Bucky had slipped into bed beside him, way later than the 3am _just lie down and try to sleep even if you're not tired_ curfew he'd agreed to try. Steve had rolled over and tugged Bucky sleepily into his arms, and when his boyfriend's face was resting in the crook of his neck he'd sworn, just for a second, that he could smell vodka.

Steve's been trying to tell himself all day that he was half-asleep, that he'd dreamed the smell because of stress (he'd fallen back asleep before he could say something, and he's using that as evidence to himself), but it keeps itching at the back of his mind. Bucky hasn't been drunk, he hasn't been slurring or stumbling or doing anything that usually shows he's intoxicated. He must have imagined it.

In the cold light of day, Steve doesn't dare mention it to Sam. He's already secretly looked through all the hiding places he can think of in their apartment and found nothing, and he doesn't want his friends to think he's getting paranoid. He's just on edge because of everything that's happening, everything that's been weird lately.

A few days before, Bucky had stayed out all night and come home with bruises on his face. He'd explained that Clint had introduced him to a veteran buddy who ran an MMA class and taken him down there to blow off some steam, that's how he'd ended up black and blue.

While Steve had initially been sceptical (to the point of calling total bullshit on the story), Bucky had shown him the guy's website and it seemed legitimate. Matt Murdock was left almost totally blinded by an IED in Afghanistan, his website explained, and his classes are focused on combat veterans left with physical disabilities, PTSD, and missing limbs. It doesn't seem unreasonable for Clint to have taken him there.

Steve can't deny that his boyfriend seems calmer since he came home beaten half to hell, so he figures maybe it's a good thing. Maybe it's not the start of a slide into disaster like he fears, maybe it really did happen the way Bucky says.

He's starting to get really worried about the fact that his first response is to disbelieve his boyfriend. He's pretty sure he should be talking to Sam about paranoia and trust when dating an addict and all that shit, but he's too scared right now. They're coming to the end of the biggest test they've been through, and he's not sure what's going to happen when the dust settles.

He's got a bad feeling in his gut that just won't go away. It feels like they're coming to the end of more than just the trial, something big and terrifying that Steve can't name lurking in the distance and waiting for them to walk straight into it.

*

"Y'know how you always have a plan? A way out?"

Natasha simply nods, watching Bucky evenly from across the kitchen table. She's not ashamed to say she's been expecting this for a while, figured it was only a matter of time before he got scared and wanted to bolt.

"I need a way out." He's dishevelled, agitated as he runs his fingers through his hair. The bruises on his face have faded to a sickly yellow and it's doing nothing to help the hot mess Bucky's looking right now.

"What do you need a way out from?" She doesn't see any signs of self-injury, and there's nothing in his demeanour that suggests the slow, crushing weight of suicidal depression.

His contracted pupils, however, are what finally give her a clue.

"You're using again."

Bucky never lies to Natasha, even when he wants to.

"Yeah." He runs his fingers through his hair again, his hands this side of the razor's edge of steady. "That's not why I need a way out. I'm only trying to get to the end of the trial without losing my mind, I'm not partying or anything, just… self-medicating."

"So if that's not what you're running from, what is it?" She's not sure how much she believes his 'self-medicating' line, but if he's keeping it under control for now then maybe that's at least what he's intending.

"Pierce is going to get off." Bucky struggles to keep his temper under control even as he says the words, and that's the problem. "They think I don't know. But I'm not stupid, or a child who can't handle the truth. People like him don't go to jail, he'll get a fine or nothing."

"That's why you're running away?"

"This isn't running away." He lets out a humourless laugh and flexes his split knuckles slowly. "This is… making the decision to walk. I need to get away because if I stay in the city, knowing that Pierce is walking around free, it's gonna eat me alive."

"Because you're scared to run into him on the street?"

"I'm not _scared_ of him. I'm fucking pissed that he's getting away with it. And I'll just get madder and madder and…" And despite his protests, there is fear in his eyes when he looks up and meets hers. "I'm not in control anymore. I might hurt someone, Natka. I don't want that person to be Steve."

"James, if you're imploding –"

"I'm not imploding." He meets her eyes as steadily as he can. Natasha's surprised to see that he doesn't look sad, all she sees is regret. "I think I'm seeing clearly, and I know what I have to do to keep myself safe. To keep… to keep Steve safe from me. All of you."

"James…"

"I don't know how to handle this thing." Bucky admits, squeezing his hands into fists and feeling the pain of his knuckles cracking. "I let myself get mad about this shit once and now I can't put the genie back in the bottle. I got in a fight and Clint took me to some MMA class and it helped but…  I'm angry all the time, and once I stop taking shit to numb myself I dunno what's gonna happen."

"You can't be on your own when that happens, we can help you." Natasha reaches out and takes his hand across the table, running her thumb over his swollen knuckles. "You don't have to do this alone."

"I do." Bucky squeezes her hand and tries to sound sure. "I've gotta prove to myself I can handle it on my own, otherwise I'm never gonna trust myself around… around any of you."

He meets her eyes and does his best to twitch a grim smile through the pain in his chest.

"I have to do this, Nat. Please." The smile fades as quickly as it came, because it never touched his eyes. "All the shit I've put Steve through already, it's not fair to put this on him too. He deserves to have a _life_ while I try and figure myself out and get this thing under control."

"You're gonna talk to him." Natasha tilts her head until he meets her eyes again. "I mean it. You're not walking away without telling him exactly what's going on. I won't let you do that to him."

"I'm gonna talk to him." Bucky nods, and hates himself for starting to tear up when he promised himself he wouldn't. "God, I don't wanna do this. But I have to prove to myself I can come back and be his equal, not someone he has to take care of. It's the only way I'm not gonna feel like I'm ruining his life."

"Promise you're coming back?"

It's the first time he's ever heard a tremor like tears in Natasha's voice, and Bucky's on his feet and walking around the table to throw his arms around her neck as soon as he registers it.

"Promise." He buries his face in her hair and holds her tightly. She always feels so much smaller than she seems, and he hates that he's aware of how much damage he could cause her if he snapped. "As soon as I get my head on straight."

"When has your head ever been straight?"

Bucky tries to pretend he's laughing, not crying.


	30. Bury Me

Alexander Pierce gets a pretty hefty fine for the unsafe working practices at Hydra Pictures. The company will be subject to inspections and other sanctions.

That's it.

After a pretty noticeable murmur of dissent at the verdict, the judge takes time to explain to the courtroom and the assembled press about validity of evidence, about reasonable doubt, but by then Bucky has stopped listening. He's starting straight at Pierce, Steve sitting next to him with what he hopes is a comforting hand on his arm.

Steve doesn't realise that he needs to be more worried about restraining than comforting.

When the trial is finally closed, when everything is over, Steve forces his numb muscles to move and stands up, ready to deal with the fallout of the verdict on his boyfriend. He expects Bucky to be frozen up in shock, but he's already on his feet and trying to walk away.

"Buck, wait." Steve hisses quietly under the rumble of talking in the room when he realises Bucky's walking straight towards Pierce. He grabs his shoulder and makes him turn back. "What are you doing?"

"I just wanna talk to him." Bucky pulls away with his jaw set and keeps making a beeline for Pierce, and Steve curses and looks over his shoulder for Natasha. If Bucky freaks out he's going to need some help to get him out of here.

Natasha sees the situation and makes her way through the crowded courtroom quickly. She's concerned too, but not for the same reasons that Steve is. She's pretty sure they have to be more worried about what Bucky might do to Pierce, not the other way around. Nothing about this is good, this isn't how any of it is supposed to go.

"James." Pierce greets him coolly when he's finished shaking hands with his lawyer. "Are you satisfied, now this little charade is over? I'm very disappointed in you."

"I don't care if you're disappointed in me." Bucky is shaking, he's shaking so hard because Sasha is _right there_ and he could reach out and touch him if he wanted to. But he has to do this, has to force the words out before they choke him. "I'm not afraid of you anymore."

"That's very brave." Pierce drops his voice lower, a glint of interest in his eye. "Very interesting, too. You finally got a little fight back, did you? We'll have to see about that."

Bucky drops his voice in kind, musters up all his courage and makes sure _he's_ the one to choose to take a step closer. He's taller than Pierce, and when he's not drugged out of his mind he knows he's stronger than the old man too. That knowledge doesn't stop him from shaking, but it keeps his voice steady.

He can protect himself. He _will_ protect himself.

"If you come near me or my family again, I swear to God I'll kill you." He looks Pierce straight in the eye because Bucky has _nothing_ , nothing but the knowledge burning in his gut that he will never let himself be taken advantage of again.

"Are you sure that's—" Pierce starts off smug, but Bucky cuts him off.

"I'll fucking kill you and I'll laugh while I wait for the cops to come." Bucky never falters, even though he can physically feel himself running out of energy to keep the front up. "That's it, Pierce. No more. Leave me alone."

There's a moment of silence where Pierce actually looks taken aback. Then he reaches out and takes Bucky's hand and leans in close. Bucky's too frozen with the shock of being touched to recoil, to yank his hand away. It looks like they're shaking hands and making amends to anyone who can't hear what's being whispered viciously into Bucky's ear.

"Like I need _you_. There are a thousand other boys who'd jump at the chances you were given. And they're younger, thinner, hotter. They'll do as they're told. They're not _broken_." He squeezes Bucky's hand hard, crushing his fingers beneath the brace. "I pulled you out of the gutter, go back there with the rest of the trash."

"Hey, get your hands off him." Steve breaks in, putting his hand on Pierce's shoulder to push him back, makes enough space to get between him and Bucky.

Faintly, Bucky's surprised to see someone push Sasha and actually make him move. He always seemed like a force of nature, and now he looks so small in front of Steve.

"Just a friendly conversation, James was apologising." Pierce has his business smile back in place, his voice raised enough that Bucky can't say a damn thing to correct him without the people around them hearing.

"Bullshit. Stay away from him." Steve is still standing protectively in front of Bucky, half shielding him from Pierce. Bucky feels Natasha's small hand on his shoulder, but he can't turn away. He can feel his resolve weakening until it melts away like ice.

"You're Captain America, aren't you? Or you were." Pierce has the audacity to reach into his pocket and pull out a black Hydra business card, which he offers to Steve as if they're in a boardroom, not a court of law. "You should consider Hydra for your comeback. Our benefits are excellent."

"Go to hell." It's about as close to a _fuck you_ as Steve will dare to give with Pierce's lawyers watching the exchange like hawks, and he pointedly turns his broad back on the man to face Bucky. The rudeness of the gesture gives him some small satisfaction when he feels just as powerless as Bucky does right now.

The shaking hasn't stopped, but Bucky's eyes aren't clouded. He hasn't checked out, he's still present and in his head. He's just… Steve searches for the word for a moment before he settles on it. Bucky looks _exhausted_.

"C'mon Buck, let's go home." He shares a glance with Natasha as he puts his arm around Bucky's shoulders and steers him away from Pierce. It looks like she knows something he doesn't, and this whole incident has got him on edge.

Bucky isn't in shock, as they speak to Quill and Gamora and locate the rest of their friends outside the courtroom. Steve had been expecting him to be completely checked out around this point, but instead he's just quiet. He seems more tired than anything else, and for some reason that's worrying his boyfriend more than some kind of freak out would have. That makes guilt weigh heavy in his chest, and he keeps his arm firmly around Bucky's shoulders as they get out to the car.

Sam and Natasha are quiet in the front seats, keeping up a low conversation as they both try and deal with their own disappointment at the verdict. Steve watches Bucky anxiously across the back seat, until his concern gets the better of him and he reaches out to take hold of Bucky's wrist.

"Are you—" He stops when he feels something hard beneath his boyfriend's sleeve. It's the wrong arm for his brace, and Bucky knows he's been caught as soon as Steve pauses.

He doesn't try to make excuses. Wearily, Bucky moves his arm and lets the knife fall onto the seat between them. It's ceramic, from the block in the kitchen, must have been chosen to avoid setting off the metal detectors in the courtroom. It was calculated.

"Jesus, Buck." Steve breathes, blood rushing to his gut as it flips over at the sight.

"I couldn't do it." Bucky's voice is quiet, raw, and he looks more upset about not being able to carry out his mission than anything else.

There's a moment of horrible silence before a thought occurs to Steve and he looks up to meet Bucky's eyes. Suicide or murder, he's not sure which he's more scared of hearing was the intention.

"You or him?"

Bucky meets his gaze steadily, no falter in his voice.

"Him."

Steve doesn't even care how it lines up with his moral compass, he's never been more relieved in his life. He sweeps the knife onto the floor and pulls Bucky into his arms across the central seat, hugging him close because he doesn't know what the hell else to do in this situation.

Bucky stays silent. There's nothing left for him to say.

It's over.


	31. Crossroad Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter! One more left after this, folks.

_"I pulled you out of the gutter."_

"Keep your gloves up, kid."

_"Go back there with the rest of the trash."_

"Kid, where's your head?"

Matt shoves him down onto the mats, not taking the uppercut he could have easily used to knock him out. Bucky loses his balance and falls on his ass, the jolt finally jerking him back into his head. He looks up at the redhead, panting for breath.

"Pay attention. Where's your fucking head?"

Matt takes off his dark glasses when he fights, and it's strange to actually see his eyes when he's talking. He told the class at the start that can see enough to get shapes and light and dark, enough to fight up close, but everything detailed is pretty much gone. He offers his hand to Bucky, who takes it and reluctantly lets himself be pulled to his feet.

"Bucky." Matt breaks into his thoughts again, persistently. He runs his fingertips over Bucky's forehead, down the side of his face, and Bucky knows he's trying to read his expression since he can't form words. "Talk to me. Where's your head at?"

A lot of the people who train in Matt's class have PTSD, it's part of the reason the class was started in the first place, so they're all used to bringing each other back when someone checks out. So it's not like Bucky feels self-conscious about letting Matt know what's wrong, it's just that he can't get the damn words out. It feels like admitting defeat.

"I… I was just distracted." He finally chokes out, Sasha's voice still rinsing around the caverns of his mind.

From across the gym, sparring with his own partner, Clint keeps an eye on them both. It's not that he doesn't trust Matt, Murdock's been a friend since basic training, but he doesn't know what sort of condition Bucky's in right now. Natasha told him about the car home from the courthouse, about the knife and the furtive words in the backseat. He'd brought Bucky to the MMA class again to try and get him to vent some of his anger after the verdict, but he's not sure how well it's working.

So he keeps to his side of the gym and keeps an eye out. He always did see better from a distance.

"By what?" Matt presses.

"Just… thinking. Sorry."

"If you get distracted then you need to call a time out." Matt reminds him, again, for what feels like the hundredth time since Bucky started here.

"I told you, I don't care if you hit—"

" _I_ do. We're not here to self-harm for you."

Bucky feels his face heat up at that, and he makes a small sound of assent. Matt claps him on the shoulder and shepherds him over to the side of the class, leaving him with instructions to drink some water and get his head together before he thinks about sparring again.

So Bucky sits and drinks his damn water, but he can't get his head together. He's not sure he can remember the last time it was. All he can think about is the verdict, Sasha's hand tight on his arm and his coffee-breath on his cheek.

_"Like I need you."_

_"There are a thousand other boys."_

_"They're not broken."_

He's not fucking broken.

Bucky dumps the bottle of water and goes back into the class. He taps Logan to be his partner this time, a big ex-Marine who doesn't pull his punches and likes fighting Bucky because he doesn't flinch. They wail on each other until Clint's breaking it up and Bucky's smiling on the mat as his whole body throbs.

 _Now_ his head feels together.

*

"Your gym called." Steve doesn't turn to look at his boyfriend until after the words are out of his mouth, and when he does his whole face crumples. "Bucky, what the fuck?"

"Training accident." The cut on his cheek is only shallow, some loose stitching in his opponent's gloves the culprit, but face wounds always bleed like hell. Bucky dumps his gym bag and cringes when Steve immediately comes over and starts trying to get a better look at the wound. "It looks worse than it is, it's only tiny."

"Well at least now I know why they called." Steve chivvies him into the bathroom, and Bucky's whole skin feels like it's crawling right off him. He doesn't want to be babied, had walked home from the gym without even looking over his shoulder in fear of Brock or Pierce. He felt powerful, for once, with the little trickle of blood escaping the bandage every so often.

He can handle himself, he doesn't need to be sat on the edge of the bath and clucked at like a child. Steve means well, he always means well, but the charade is wearing thin. Bucky's been withdrawn since the verdict, barely talking since everything fell to pieces all over again, and Steve's been taking any opportunity he can to actually show some caring to him.

"It was the guy in charge, Matt something." Steve is looking for the first aid kit in the medicine cabinet, and all Bucky can think about is his stash of pain pills hidden under the side of the bath he's sitting on. "Basically said don't come back until you're prepared to follow the rules and defend yourself while you're fighting. No one in the class wants to partner up with you because they don't want to hurt you."

He's really trying not to sound accusing, and Bucky can hear the struggle in Steve's voice when he turns around.

"He actually said _'it's not fight club'_ , Buck." Bucky doesn't meet Steve's eyes, can see the sigh that's being held back in the corner of his vision. "The fact he had to say that is a problem."

"D'you ever get tired of telling me what my problems are?"

That was the wrong thing to say, and Bucky winces at the viciousness of the snipe as soon as he hears it come out of his mouth. Steve's mouth twists between sadness and anger and then he's shoving the first aid kit into Bucky's bruised chest, yanking the door open where it had lazily fallen closed behind them.

"Fix your own godamn face. I'm going out." He doesn't look back, walks straight out of the apartment and slams the door behind him because he needs to cool off before he says something he'll regret. The stress is getting to him, he's not sure how much longer he can handle it.

Bucky has the side off the bath and his pills in hand before Steve's footsteps are even done echoing down the hall. He pops a couple and then catches himself, realising just how shitty things have become. He knew he was hurting Steve, being so withdrawn and self-destructive after the verdict, but he never thought it would get to this point. Never thought he'd be picking fights just to get high a few minutes earlier.

Slowly, Bucky lets his head fall to rest in his hands. It might not be the end of the line, but he's pretty sure this is his stop.

*

"Steve?"

Bucky is mostly sober. He stands nervously in the doorway of the bedroom, his cheek clumsily adorned with a plaster and his hair wet from showering. Steve looks up from his sketchbook after a few moments of collecting himself, not sure which version of Bucky he's prepared to handle tonight. Things have been cool between them all day, ever since the bathroom, but Bucky actually starting a conversation is progress.

"Can we talk?" It seems like Bucky's got rid of all his armour, his brace and his usual layers of clothes, as he stands there in a t-shirt and jeans, scrubbed clean and looking very young and very tired. This is new.

"Sure." Steve closes his book and sets it on the nightstand. Bucky seems almost tentative as he comes and sits on the edge of the bed, and Steve's eyes follow the line of his spine through his shirt as he waits for Bucky to speak.

"I'm sorry about earlier, what I said." He starts, quietly. "I keep upsetting you lately, and that's not okay. I've been so angry and stuck in my head since the verdict, it's not fair that I take it out on you."

Steve squints at him slightly, because this is _very_ new. They usually made up after fighting by pretty much silently deciding to move on from whatever had happened, sometimes with muttered apologies and symbolic gestures of _I'm sorry_ thrown in, but actually talking about it straight out is new.

"Bucky, it's okay. I understand."

"You don't, Steve. That's part of the problem." It's not said like an accusation, there's no venom in it, but Steve feels the words sting anyway. "You never call me on my shit. You just take me being an asshole to you because you think that's what you need to do."

Bucky reaches out and takes Steve's hand, covering warm flesh with cold fingers, and Steve isn't exactly sure where he's going with this.

"But I never want anyone to treat you badly, least of all me." Bucky meets his eyes sincerely, and Steve suddenly realises with a painful twist in his gut exactly where he's going with this. "I think I need to leave for a while and get my head straight."

There's a stunned silence between them.

"I don't want you to go." Steve blurts it out, not caring how simple and childish the words are. "I can help you, you don't have to… You can't…"

"When was the last time you felt like this was a relationship, Steve? An equal one?" Bucky swallows hard and forces his voice to be steady. "I don't wanna go either, the last thing in the world I wanna do is not be with you, but this isn't working. Not the way things are now."

And he hates himself so much for the pain in Steve's face. He twists around and finds Steve's other hand, lacing their fingers together because he suddenly can't handle the idea that they might not touch again for a long time. Maybe not ever if Steve doesn't want him back.

"I need to go and take care of myself, prove I can do it alone. Then I can… if you want me to… I can come back and be the man you deserve, not some shell you have to babysit. I don't want that life for you, you deserve better than I am right now."

"What if I don't want better?" Steve's voice is shaking, and Bucky squeezes his hands hard because he fucking hates every second of this too. "You don't have to leave to get better, Buck. I'm right here and I can help you."

"Steve, you don't do that. You think you can save me, that if you just do every little thing perfectly then something will fall into place and I'll wake up better. But that's not how it works, you can't save me." Bucky's trying to be gentle about it, but the words are clearly tearing him apart too. "I've gotta save myself."

Steve doesn't say anything at all for a minute, and Bucky waits with him in the heavy silence. Then he suddenly tugs Bucky into his arms and a crushing hug, holding him tight like he can protect him from the world. Bucky thinks it's the first time Steve hasn't treated him like glass for as long as he can remember.

"You fucking come back in one piece, you stupid asshole." His voice is still shaking, and Bucky just hugs him tight as if he can apologise with his body. "And you _come back_ , you hear me? Don't you dare just disappear, you can't do that to me."

"I won't, I won't." Bucky buries his face in Steve's chest, because the last thing he wants to do is _leave_ the man he loves, but he knows he has to. For both their sakes.

"Don't just fall off the Earth, Bucky." Steve is holding him so tight he can hardly breathe, and Bucky blames that for why his chest feels so tight. "Do what you've gotta do, but come back. Promise me."

"I will. I promise." He swallows hard past the lump in his throat and tries not to cry. Because he did this to Steve, he doesn't deserve to get upset. "I'll come back, and this time we can have something that works. I want a life with you, not just surviving together."

They cling to each other on what has suddenly become just Steve's bed, and it's the first time in forever that neither of them are trying to hide anything from each other. In their sadness, they're honest.

Maybe something good really can come out of this painful thing. That idea is what keeps them going as they hold each other until the sun comes up and nobody sleeps. It keeps them limping along as Bucky puts the few possessions he has into his rucksack. It keeps them breathing as the apartment suddenly feels empty, even though barely anything has changed except the people in it.

At the door, Steve puts his old Captain America dog tags around Bucky's neck and Bucky kisses him until he can't breathe. It takes Bucky a moment to notice that there's only one tag around his neck.

"When soldiers die, one tag stays with the body and one goes home." Steve's voice is rough, like he's holding in tears as he pulls at the chain around his own neck until the second tag comes into view from under his shirt. "You can't die if your tag's already home. You can't."

Bucky struggles to keep it together then, because he knows Steve is just as scared of this as he is. He kisses Steve once more, softly, sweetly, and then walks away with his rucksack over his shoulder and the little chain suddenly feeling heavy around his neck. He doesn't look back, because he hates every tearing second of this and knows he won't be able to go if he does.

Steve watches the hall until Bucky's long out of sight.


	32. Ain't No Mountain High Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God, it's the end!
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading this story and going on this crazy ride with me, I've had some of the most wonderful comments from y'all. Sorry for all the heartbreak.

_Dear Steve,_

'Hi' had seemed too informal, but 'dear' seems kind of stiff. Bucky vaguely remembers learning the right way to construct a letter in high school, but he can't remember most of that time anymore. His head is clearer in the open air, on the edge of the city so he's still within the concrete bounds but outside of the hustle and bustle. Still, he hesitates before he puts pen to paper again. Words are hard.

The bus stop is cold, and he pulls his (maybe still?) boyfriend's stolen hoodie tighter around his shoulders. He's so narrow now that it tends to fall off his skinny limbs. His good hand is as steady as it's been for the last few days, after he sweated out the pills and booze in a shitty motel he had just enough money to pay for by the night. That's on top of his bus ticket.

The ticket had been his priority. He needs to get out of here more than he needs to sleep indoors.

_Things are going okay. I went to the same clinic as last time. I've been here for a few days now and it's pretty good. The food is shit but I'm eating it._

Steve can't even try and hide the way he visibly deflates with relief at those short sentences. He's standing at Natasha's kitchen table, the paper smoothed out on the surface so he can pretend his hands are steady in spite of his nerves. He clings to the word _clinic_ like a prayer.

He's been worried sick since Bucky left, no matter that he's been trying to respect his (kinda still?) boyfriend's wishes and let him figure things out on his own. When Natasha called after almost two weeks to say she'd got some letters, that one of them was addressed to Steve, he'd practically run over to read it.

He can tell from her face that Natasha doesn't believe that Bucky's in rehab. He's not sure he does either, but at this point he's willing to kid himself. It's the best he can do to keep himself sane.

_I'm not going to be write very much._

He squints, scratches it out, and looks at the sentence again. God, his written English fucking sucks sometimes. Bucky feels so wrung out after white-knuckling withdrawal that he guesses he can be forgiven a few language problems, but it doesn't stop him feeling useless. He can feel the anger at himself already bubbling in his chest because of the frustration, but he shoves it down. He can save it for later, not when he's trying to convince Steve that he's fine.

_~~I'm not going to be write very much.~~ _ _I'm not going to write very much. I think it's better if I concentrate on getting myself good again. Getting off the shit sucked, don't pretend you didn't know I was using again. But I'm off it now and sober. Staying that way._

Bucky chews on his lip and doesn't think about the bottle of pills shoved away in the bottom of his rucksack where he doesn't have to look at them unless he wants to. They're just for emergencies, just in case something goes really wrong. He guesses he meant that last time too, but he tells himself that it's going to work this time.

It's not like he wants to lie to Steve, he doesn't mean to deceive him. It's just that Bucky knows he might stop worrying himself into the ground if he tells him that he's safe, that things are going well and he's taking care of himself. And he is, sort of.

Yes, he's sitting in a bus station freezing his ass off in not enough clothing. Yes, he's as thin and gaunt as he's ever been from coming off the substances he's been poisoning himself with. And yes, he had to sit on his bed and clench his fists so hard it hurt for at least half an hour after he ate this morning to stop himself from shoving his fingers down his throat. But the total of it all is, he's still going somewhere with a purpose, he's still sober, and he still has food in his stomach.

He's trying.

_I'm going to visit some family after I get out of here, my uncle will send me a ticket. Don't worry if you don't hear from me for a long time, I will be okay and I will get you a letter soon as I'm back in the country. I will email when I can._

Steve sighs unsteadily and gently runs his finger over the blocky black script, wishing he could touch Bucky through it somehow. If Bucky's doing well enough to be thinking about leaving the country after rehab, maybe things are going better than Steve has dared to hope. Maybe that's just something he has to tell himself to stay sane.

_~~I miss you. I wish I was home. I feel lost without you.~~ _ _I really miss you._

Bucky scribbles it out so it's unreadable three times before he finally leaves the words in, because they're true even if he thinks it would be kinder to leave them out.

He's starting to shiver from the cold, sitting exposed on the unforgiving metal seat. He spent Thanksgiving totally out of it, only realised the holiday had passed when he came round a few days later with the opiates finally out of his system. It'll be Christmas soon, he realises with no small lurch in his stomach. Maybe he'll be in Russia by then. Maybe he'll be with family.

He won't be with Steve, and in that moment he wants to tear his ticket apart and run back to him. But he grits his teeth and steels himself and forces himself to be strong, because that's the whole point of this. He's come this far on his own, and he's not going back now.

_Take care of yourself. Let Natasha feed you borsch at Christmas Eve and don't fucking complain. You like it after a few drinks. Do that, okay? Drink and have a good time and do all the stuff I stopped you doing. I want you to have fun. I'm okay, I promise._

Steve only figures out he's crying when a drop of water splatters onto the letter and he realises his face feels hot. It's weird, he doesn't feel upset by the words that are pressed into the paper hard as if the force of them will get their meaning across more clearly. There's a looseness in his chest that hasn't been there since the first time Bucky was fired from Shield, the first time Steve realised he couldn't protect him from himself. Maybe Bucky really will save himself.

Steve feels… hopeful. He'd almost forgotten what that felt like.

_I will be back soon. Ain't no mountain high enough, right?_

Bucky's bus pulls into the station and he quickly scrawls the last of his letter before he can think about it too hard. He pulls the stolen hoodie up where it's slipping off his shoulder again and folds the letter carefully, tucking it into his pocket so it doesn't get crumpled. He can post it once he's out of the city, he just needs to be gone. He shoves everything into his half-empty, rattling rucksack and slings it onto his back as he gets onto the bus.

He doesn't look back at New York as the door closes after him. There's nothing left behind him that he wants to see, nothing left for him here but the people he has to get away from to protect them.

It will be more than a year before he sees the city again.

_I love you._

They're the last words Steve gets from Bucky for a very long time. He holds them in his heart and lets them keep him warm while his bed is cold and empty, while his apartment is quiet and his friends are worried, while the seasons turn and everything feels frozen in time. It might be stupid, might be contrary to everything he should have learned from the last year, but he trusts Bucky.  

Steve doesn't lose faith, no matter how long it takes.

He knows Bucky is coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part of Steve and Bucky's story is called Bamboo Bones, and is posted up as the next part of the One For My Baby series. 
> 
> Thanks for reading guys, love you.


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